


The Stars Are the Only Thing We Share

by onceandforall



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Break Up, Canon Compliant Injuries, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Coming Out, Confessions, First Kisses, Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, M/M, Miscommunication, One Sided Lance / Shiro, keith being angsty, meddling and well-meaning pidge, minor hunk / pidge, minor lance / pidge, there's a happy ending, vehement pineapple on pizza hating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-12 21:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11170029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceandforall/pseuds/onceandforall
Summary: There is no such thing as soulmates. There's no one person that is magically fit for another. Loving someone is hard. Loving someone is a process. Loving someone doesn't mean that there will always be a happy ending. Fortunately, Keith has a head start.orA life where Keith comes to remember; a life where Keith never forgets; and a life where nothing is ever recalled.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> happy super late birthday, [cande](https://twitter.com/Vanellashake). ah, this is long overdue, but better late than never, right? i love you and thank you for your patience and support. also, a big thank you to erin for the beta (basically telling me when things didn't make sense). it takes a whole village to bring a fic to life, doesn't it? this is my first (posted) writing for vld, but hopefully not my last! title is from [Atlas Hands by Benjamin Francis Leftwich](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtnnwlrTw_k).
> 
> enjoy reading!

1

 

Moving schools halfway through the year is always a daunting task. Pair that with a five-year-old Keith’s inability to make friends, his penchant for speaking in whispers instead of what his mother calls his “Big Boy Voice”, and his stubborn inertia against change, it’s no wonder that Keith spends his (second) first week of kindergarten by himself. 

 

During recess, the last swing on the right side is his solitude. It’s gathered rust from overuse, the plastic handle that’s supposed to protect the young kids from the chain is cracked, and the swings squeaks at the slightest touch so the rest of his classmates leave it alone. If he jumps, Keith can sit in the seat and look occupied. His first day here taught him that if he stays in the classroom, the teacher will walk over to him with her too big smile and too loud clothes and try to get him to open up. 

 

Keith doesn’t get it. He had already opened up at his last school, so why does he have to do it again? Why did he have to move? At least at his old school he knew the kids that were in his class. Here everyone knows each other and Keith barely feels like he knows himself. 

 

It’s Friday, right before their class gets dismissed and the day has already felt too long. At his old school, Keith’s days ended right after lunch but here, as the teacher had put it when Keith stood awkwardly in front of his mom’s legs and stared at bright alphabet rug underneath him, they were trying to transition the children into a full-day schedule; their classes ended later. 

 

Keith hates it. It’s Friday, and although winter is supposedly wrapping up, the weather had hit a cold spot and the scarf around Keith’s neck is itchy and rubs his nose red. It doesn’t help that the wind rushing around him is even colder, but the swing is fun and it makes Keith feel a little less ostracized. 

 

“Can I have a turn?” 

 

Keith jolts in surprise: since the first day when the rest of the kids had stayed away from the dark cloud above his head, no one but the teacher has talked to him. Keith doesn’t like drawing attention to himself. 

 

Keith’s hands tighten on the handles, the peeling paint digging harsh indentations into his palms. It hurts, but it is what keeps him steady on the swing. He tries to get a look at who is talking to him, but is unable to see them. But even if he could see them, he wouldn’t know them.

 

“Hey! Can I have a turn?” the voice repeats, louder this time. 

 

Keith extends his foot so he can drag it across the woodchips and slow himself down. If the other kid wants go on his swing instead of the three other empty swings, Keith is not going to question it. It’s not that Keith doesn’t like the other kids, but he’s painfully shy. 

 

“Hey, I asked if I could go on the swing?” the kid asks, and although there’s no malice in his tone, Keith can sense the impatience. 

 

So he does the logical thing: he jumps. 

 

Keith is an only child and while he likes having his own toys and clothes, sometimes he’ll look at the kids around him play with their siblings and he wishes he wasn’t. This is one of those times. Maybe if he had an older brother or an older sister, they would have warned him about jumping off a swing for the first time. They would have started off with saying “Don’t” and ended it with saying “Ever”. 

 

But Keith doesn’t have an older sibling, so he jumps and lands with his arms outstretched. Everything seems okay until it doesn’t. 

 

“Holy moley,” the kid says, awe in his voice. “That was so cool! You were a plane! A bird! Like Superman!” 

 

Keith doesn’t feel like Superman. He feels sweaty and out of breath. He moves to stand up and let the kid have the swing but when he moves his right arm, pain shoots up it and he whimpers. Keith didn’t know that jumping off a swing could be so painful, but it’s the worst pain Keith has felt in his six years of living.

 

“Are you okay?” the kid asks and Keith can feel a small hand on his back. 

 

Keith shakes his head, afraid to speak because he knows that if he does it will be only tears. Keith has never had a good pain tolerance, but then again he has never needed to. Once when he was five he got a paper cut off the edge of a book and had run to his mother, crying. His mother had comforted him, rubbing the top of his head, and put a bandaid on his small injury, sealing it with a kiss. But this is nothing like the pain of a paper cut: for one, he’s going to need a way bigger band aid. 

 

“You don’t look okay. C’mon,” the kid says, grabbing onto Keith’s shoulder. “We have to take you to the teacher. She’ll know what to do.” 

 

Moving his arm hurts so much that hot tears spring to his cheeks, but Keith lets himself be dragged from the playground and into the classroom. Keith has his eyes shut but he can tell that they’ve walked inside from the blast of warm air that hits his face. For some reason, it makes the pain even more prominent and as they make their way to the teacher, Keith can no longer hold back his sobs. 

 

The teacher is quick to respond and Keith can’t reply to any of the questions that she’s asking because his arm throbs with pain and he just wants it to stop hurting. He tells her this much and the kid besides him (Keith still doesn’t know who it is) inputs in his side of the story as she leads them both to the nurse's office. 

 

“It was so cool! Keith just went Fshhhhhhhhhh in the air, like Superman!” 

 

“Did Keith jump off the swing or did you push him?” the teacher asks. To Keith she says, “I’m going to call your parents okay? The nurse is getting you ice so we can stop the swelling.” She makes Keith sit down in a chair and he practically melts in it. 

 

He sniffles, but now when he’s not moving, the pain has subsided. He opens his eyes to see an energetic kid bubbling in the space in front of him. 

 

“He jumped! It was so cool! I’ve never seen anyone jump off a swing before. I didn’t even know you could do that,” the kid exclaims, stars in his eyes. Keith has never seen anyone so enthusiastic about getting hurt, but then again the kid isn’t the one hurting. 

 

“So, Lance, you weren’t being mean to Keith?” the teacher asks and Lance stops his excited movements to look at her. Keith is confused as well. Why would she think Lance was mean to him? 

 

He shakes his head, brown hair turning this way and that with the motion. “No. Why would I be? I just asked if I could go on the swing and he jumped off.” 

 

The teacher turns her gaze to Keith. “Is this true, Keith? Lance didn’t make you jump off, did he?” 

 

Lance answers before Keith has a chance too, “I didn’t! I didn’t make him do anything. Keith is my friend!” 

 

The teacher looks unconvinced by Lance’s reply, but Keith doesn’t know why. Did Lance have a habit of being mean to other kids? Even though Keith has barely been in the class for a week, and has formally known Lance for all of fifteen minutes, Lance doesn’t seem like the type of kid to start trouble. Sure, he’s a little too enthusiastic for Keith’s tastes especially when the crying has started to wear him out and Keith is starting to feel sleepy and lethargic, but Keith would never think Lance would do something mean. 

 

Lance notices that the teacher isn’t buying his explanation. He pouts and says, “Best friend! Keith is my best friend!” He reaches over and pulls on Keith’s hand to hold it, trying to make his point, but he grabs the arm that Keith had landed on and it shoots pain up his arm. Keith starts crying again.

 

“I’m so sorry, Keith!” Lance yells. “I didn’t mean to do that!” 

 

“Let’s walk back to the classroom now, Lance,” the teacher says and she gives Lance a look that says that this is not a suggestion but an order. Lance sags his shoulder, says a mumbled sorry and goodbye to Keith, and starts to head out of the nurse’s office. 

 

The teacher stays for a few more seconds. She pats the top of Keith’s head in the same way that his mother does when he’s upset. “You don’t have to lie and say that Lance is your friend,” she says. “He doesn’t mean to hurt other people, but he can get a bit too excited at times. It’s okay to tell me the truth.”

 

The teacher said to tell the truth, so Keith does. “He’s my friend,” he says. He moves slightly and the pain flares back. “And my arm really hurts,” he says, voice wobbling and new tears streaming down his face. 

 

When his mother comes and picks him up, she takes his directly to the hospital and Keith gets a cast that goes up to his elbow. Lance is the first one to sign it. 

 

“Don’t worry,” Lance says, eyebrows furrowed as he draws his name in capitalized letters the next day at school. “I’m sure Superman had a cast once too.” 

 

* * *

 

i 

 

Keith has never not know and he’s not sure if that somehow makes his life better or worse. When he’s young, he makes the decision to stay away from Lance at all costs. He’s felt the heartbreak, has seen all the possible ways that it could go wrong and he wants all that to stay far away from him. It’s not worth the fleeting happiness, he reasons. Even if they were to find each other in this life and live it out, old age would take one of them. Life and fate play a cruel game. 

 

With his dedication to avoiding Lance, it comes as a surprise when Keith sees him for the first time. It doesn’t feel like the first time, because in reality it’s not. The Lance across the room is a Lance that he has met countless times before but at the same time a Lance that he doesn’t know a thing about. The paradox makes Keith sick to his stomach and he walks right out of the class and spends the rest of the night in his room. His roommate shoots him peculiar looks, but doesn’t question anything. Keith doesn’t care; on good days he can’t be bothered to remember Lance’s name. 

 

As the universe would have it, Keith sees Lance every day from then on. There is only so many classes he’s able to skip before his grades start to sag and Keith didn’t work his way into the Galaxy Garrison for nothing. Keith isolates himself even more than before, and it’s okay until it isn’t. 

 

Shiro goes missing on a warm, summer day that is too pleasant for something tragic to happen. Keith wakes up in the morning with a sour taste in his throat and when he hears the news as he’s getting breakfast, something in him breaks. His spoon clatters into his half-eaten cereal bowl and he gets up, puts his plate away, and practices his flight simulation skills until he can’t see straight. 

 

“I’ll see you when I get back, okay?” Shiro had said, one of the last things he ever said to Keith and it wasn’t even directed solely at Keith. It had been directed to the group of students that Keith had been a part of. Shiro promised later, when it was the two of them, that he would bring Keith something back from the stars, a memento of exploration. It was the day before their ship took off and Keith replays the small scene over and over again until it’s even in his dreams. Screw the gifts, all he wants is Shiro to be back. If in this life, he knows that he can’t have Lance, then why couldn’t he have someone else? 

 

It’s not a surprise when he gets kicked out of the Garrison. He was always a dedicated student, but he was also temperamental. Accompanied with a short fuse, Keith is a time bomb waiting to happen.  _ Shiro wasn’t a bad pilot _ , he yelled at the director one day when he had had enough.  _ Shiro is the best pilot to ever come out of this shitty excuse for a school. There’s no way that their mission had gone missing because of pilot error.  _

 

The director had kept his face an even mask and the lack of emotion made Keith even madder. If Shiro meant this little to them all, then what did Keith mean to them? Keith, who couldn’t ever manage to be half the person Shiro is. Not was. Is. 

 

Surprisingly, Keith doesn’t get kicked out right then and there, but he might as well have been. The administration chooses to not invite him back for the next semester, but Keith is packed and moved out both mentally and physically before the semester comes close to an end. It’s beyond frustrating having no one caring about Shiro’s mission and Keith knows that there has to have been another factor that they are overlooking. 

 

And Keith finds that factor, that huge glaringly obvious factor that exists right next to the person that Keith has been trying to avoid since he could understand what his dreams were. 

 

“Voltron,” Lance exclaims, stars in his eyes and wonder in his voice. Keith has to look away because everything in his body is starting to hurt from looking at Lance. How was able to go through all the lives before if it hurt like this? Either Keith is a stronger person that he thinks he is or he’s weaker than he usually is. 

 

And the pain never goes away, not truly. There are some days where Keith wakes up in the spaceship and he feels fine. The pressure in his head is all but gone and he can smile and laugh and joke and it’s genuine and real and amazing. It all settles in: Keith is here, in space, traveling the cosmos, and out to save the universe. 

 

And other days, Keith wakes up and has to drag himself out of bed to not worry the others. These days, he practices with the training dummies until he’s cut up and bleeding, cursing himself for not being able to defeat them on their low settings. These days, he sits in the shower as the water burns. It all settles in: Keith is here, in space and Shiro is here but without any of his memories of Keith, Lance is here and alive and oblivious as well. Why is Keith always the one to know everything? Why must he be the one with the burden of all the knowledge of the  _ would of, could of, should of.  _ He’s out to save the universe, but he can barely save the two people in front of him, barely save himself. 

 

Sometimes, Keith will catch himself acting as if Lance knows and Lance will stare at him for a moment, cock his head slightly to the side as if he was a dog and then dismiss it off as Keith being Keith. Those are the worst days. 

 

Sometimes, they’ll become a step closer to saving the universe and Keith will feel a rush of pure adrenaline, pure ecstasy rushing through his veins. It makes him feel as if he is on top of the world, and for that brief moment he is. He’s living the life that is set out before him with fate by his side and his own decisions complimenting.

 

“Voltron,” Lance says on those days, coming off his own euphoric trip. They are a few scratches on Lance’s legs from running, a few bruises on his arms from sliding, but nothing major. “Voltron,” he says again as if he will never get tired of saying the word. 

 

And because Keith knows Lance, he knows that Lance rarely gets tired of things.

 

* * *

 

a

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Keith sighs, staring at his blinking computer screen. The screen turns a bright blue color before blacking out. It whines, the unsettling noise sending shivers up Keith’s spine, and then sputters out. Keith’s computer, his friend since the start of high school that has seen everything from the time he was absurdly into eyeliner to his art history essay he had finished just minutes ago, is lying dead in front of him. 

 

He feels like he should call for funeral services. Not only for his computer but also for his grade. And for the unknown girl in front of him that had just so happened to walk by the lounge and trip, her glass of ice water landing onto his laptop and efficiently killing it. Keith is seeing red; the essay needs to be turned in at midnight and last time he checked, it was nearing 11. He checked a while ago, too. 

 

“Oh my gosh,” the girl says, one hand (dripping water, mind you) holding the now empty cup and the other hand over her mouth. “I am so sorry. I know I’m a klutz and I was just walking past, but oh my god. I am so sorry.” 

 

Keith can’t even look at her because he knows that if he does, the full reality of the situation will set in. Instead, he looks up towards the ceiling, the fluorescent light bulbs burning his eyes. His laptop is fine, the essay is saved, his grade won’t drop, and everything will be okay. 

 

Keith looks down, black spots clouding his vision. His computer is a sorry sight and he feels like crying. That’s his computer, an extension of himself if he’s being honest. “Shit.” 

 

The girl apologizes more, even offers to pay for half of the new laptop he now has to get but he shrugs her off. Sure, he’ll like the money when he buys his new laptop, but that’s not his priority right now. His priority is getting his essay proofread and turned in. (She also offers Keith her laptop to use and on another day, Keith might have taken her up on the offer. But it was not another day and she just so happened to be the girl that ruined Keith’s laptop. So, no thanks. Keith’s petty and it can lead to his own misfortune, sue him.) 

 

And if that means going to the library across campus which so conveniently happens to be the only one open at this hour, then that’s where Keith will go. After wiping down his wet laptop with a small rag the girl had gotten him, Keith shoves his laptop in his backpack (It's dead, but he's not letting it get stolen too.) and books it to the library. A quick check on his phone tells him he has fifteen minutes. If he sprints, Keith can get to the library in ten minutes, which leaves five minutes to login to a computer and turn in the essay. He’s never been more grateful for the cloud’s autosave ability in his entire life because even if he can’t proofread it the way that he would like to, at least the essay will be there. 

 

At this point, Keith’s just hoping that he’ll make it in time. He’s cutting it close. 

 

He makes it into the library in eight and a half minutes, his chest heaving and a thin layer of sweat covering his face. The student working at the counter only glances up at him, tells him that the library closes soon, and goes back to burying her nose in her book. Keith grabs the first seat that he finds, logs in, pulls up the essay, scans it for glaring typos, and turns it in. 

 

He looks at the small clock on the bottom of the computer screen. Two minutes to spare. 

 

Keith stretches in his seat, taking in a deep breath, the stress the past half of an hour have caused leaving him. He swears he has never run that fast, not even when he experimentally tried out for the cross country team his freshman year of high school. His chest hurts, but he’s not sure if that’s leftover from the sudden burst of anxiety or his exercise-induced asthma. It’s probably a mix of both. 

 

The deep relief of having sent in his essay in is interrupted by screaming. In actuality, it’s muffled cursing that is amplified by the quietness of the library and it’s then that Keith realizes that this section of the library is not as empty as he thought it was. There’s a kid down the row, big headphones over his head, and back hunched as he leans to get closer to the computer screen. Something bright flashes across the screen and the kid curses again, this time stomping his foot for added benefit. 

 

It’s amusing to watch, until the screen keeps flashing brightly every thirty seconds and the kid’s voice grows louder and louder. Keith is about to start looking for the librarian because the kid isn’t trying to be subtle about his absolute lack of video game skills, (Who even plays video games in a library at midnight on a Tuesday night?) when the kid takes off his headphones, throws them to the ground, and screams a loud “Fuck you!” to the computer screen. 

 

As expected, the computer doesn’t do anything but flash what Keith has surmised to be the death screen. Computers, Keith has come to intimately know, don’t respond well to crisis. 

 

“I was so fucking close, oh my god,” the kid whines and at this point, Keith isn’t sure why he keeps calling the stranger kid. He looks around the same age as Keith, give or take a bit. He seems oddly familiar, but Keith doesn’t know where from. They aren’t at a big campus, so maybe that’s why. Somehow through somewhere, people are bound to know each other at this school.

 

“Uh,” Keith mutters, not initially planning to interrupt but the stranger looks like he’s on the verge of tears. Keith has never been into video games so he doesn’t quite understand why one can make someone so emotional, but Keith’s had a rough day as well. The water spilling over his laptop had been the cherry on top. He started the morning by accidentally putting a red sock into his white laundry and staining everything a pastel shade of pink. The day got even better when he stepped into a puddle of water, ruining his new shoes that he had spent a fortune on. It was as if fate decided that Keith was going to have a bad day, and no one can really go against fate’s decisions. He figures that the stranger might need some comfort. 

 

“You good?” Yes, Keith thinks to himself, way to be articulate. This is why he doesn’t try to initiate conversations if he can help it. 

 

The stranger looks over to him, his eyes widening as if he just realized Keith has been there and watching his mini breakdown this entire time. He flushes a bright red, the type of blush that even reaches the tips of his ears and crawls down to his exposed collarbones. He then scowls, but it’s thrown off by how his face is the color of a cherry tomato. “Why do you care?” he spits, voice cracking. 

 

“I don’t,” Keith says, his brutal honesty getting through his filter. He blames it on the whirlwind of emotions today has put him through. Anyone would have a short fuse if they had gone through Keith’s day.

 

“Excuse me?” the stranger asks, eyebrows raising in astonishment. He sounds offended and Keith knows that he has every right to be. After all, Keith is the one intruding. 

 

Knowing that he has more than likely overstepped his boundaries, Keith logs out of the computer, and tries to walk away from the scene, but the stranger’s eyes are still on him. They’re brown and wide, a bit daring but also challenging. There’s something about the stranger that rubs Keith the wrong way and he can’t help but say something as he leaves. 

 

“You heard me,” Keith says, and then imagines himself hitting his head against a wall. Even though he’s a sophomore in college, Keith hasn’t made many friends due to his antisocial tendencies and lack of a constantly working filter, as observed. The last thing that he needs is an enemy. If you can call it an enemy if all you’ve ever done is exchange a few minutes in a library that’s empty but for the two of them. Even the librarian isn’t around, though closing time has to be rapidly coming in on them. 

 

“Dude, what the fuck. You’re the one that asked the question,” the stranger interjects, bewildered. He hurriedly starts packing up his items as well, shoving his headphones and mouse (Wow, the kid even brought his own mouse. Keith has to give him kudos for coming prepared.) into his satchel. 

 

“You’re the one being rude about it,” Keith says back, feeding right back into this unusual cat and mouse game that they’ve found themselves in. At the moment, Keith isn’t sure if he is the mouse or the cat. All he knows is that he wants to go back to his dorm and sleep until his alarm clock doesn’t let him sleep anymore. 

 

“Sorry for not being perfectly civil all the time,” the stranger says, rolling his eyes. “You were the one that was weirdly staring at me that entire time.” He passes Keith as he walks towards the door and Keith follows him, grumbling slightly. There’s a slight swagger to his steps as he walks and Keith finds it pretentious. Keith chastises himself. Why is he spending so much attention on a guy that he knows he won’t see again? 

 

Keith is also tired, so his replies are harsher than he intends them to be. Or maybe the stranger is sensitive. At this point, Keith neither knows nor wants to know. “Do you realize how loud you were? Did the fact that we’re in a library not bother you in the slightest?” 

 

The stranger adjusts the strap of his handle. “Actually, we’re not in the library anymore,” he points out. It’s true, they had just walked out of the library mere seconds ago. “So, I don’t think it matters if I’m loud or not.” The stranger turns to look at him, a small smile on his face. He winks. “Why? Do you like that?” 

 

Keith groans and walks away from the stranger. He’s going the wrong direction, but at this point any path that’s away from the stranger can be considered the right one. “Fuck you,” he exhales.

 

“Take me out to dinner first!” the stranger says, laughing. “I’m a classy man!” 

 

“Fuck you!” Keith says, louder this time. He flips the stranger off and then shoves his hand in his pocket when the stranger starts to laugh even more. 

 

“My name’s Lance, by the way!” the stranger says, amusement in his voice. 

 

Keith sighs as he turns the corner, leaving the stranger –Lance– behind him. It’s been a hell of a day. 

 

It’s only when Keith gets back to his dorm room and has thrown himself on his bed that he realizes that he never had to go to the library at all. He could have turned his essay in through his phone. 

 

Keith groans into his pillow and hopes that the next day will be better. 

 

* * *

 

 

2

 

Lance, both awake and asleep, is what Keith would like to call an octopus. He has this way about him where he’s always draping himself on something or someone, and because of the proximity that Keith always finds himself in, Keith is usually the one that’s bearing the wrath of his slim shoulders and even skinnier arms. Keith, once in a fight when they were ten years old, had called Lance chicken wings and Lance had proceeded to cry so profusely that the entire argument had been dropped. Keith doesn’t like to mention Lance’s arms anymore, but when one’s digging into this the soft side of his stomach, he can’t help it. 

 

“Get your bony elbows off of me,” Keith says, pushing Lance away from him and promptly off the side of the bed. In his defense, Keith hadn’t known that Lance was that close to the edge. 

 

Lance lands with a quiet thud, the carpet taking the brunt of the short fall. “You jerk,” he breathes out sleepily, blinking his eyes slowly. Now Keith feels bad; he hadn’t thought that Lance had actually fallen asleep because Lance likes to test Keith’s patience most of the time, smashing buttons until Keith has enough and Lance runs away laughing. Their friendship works like that, one side pulling and the other side pushing and if you would have told the five-year-old Keith with a broken arm and snot running down his nose that he and Lance would have remained friends (Best friends, his mother would say.) ten or so odd years in the future, he wouldn’t have known what to say. 

 

He still doesn’t know what to say. Hanging out with Lance is like constantly being on an adventure, always trying new things that don’t always sit well with Keith. At the start of their freshman year, Lance had made them both try out for the cross country team. It was horrible and waking up at five in the morning to go on a five mile rule was not in the original plan. He quit halfway through the season, opting to stick to fencing – something he was actually good at – but Lance didn’t mind because Lance never minds when Keith can’t do exactly everything that Lance wants him to. He might make petty jabs and tease him about it, but it’s all in good spirits. 

 

But at the same time, Lance is something familiar, something known, something safe. Sometimes when they’re lounging around in one of their rooms, like today, it feels like Keith has always been here, that Lance has always been here too. That their combined existence is a memory and reality all at once. Keith blames it on the fact that they’ve seen each other grow up. Of course they’d be familiar and comfortable with each other. 

 

Lance is still laying on the floor, and Keith hasn’t heard a word from him. Lance is grumpy and fussy when he wakes up so Keith is understandably worried. “Are you okay?” he asks, sitting up so he can look at Lance. “Are you crying?” 

 

“No,” Lance says, looking up to the glow-in-the-dark stars on Keith’s bedroom ceiling. He’s laying spread-eagle across the carpet, breath soft but shallow. 

 

“You sure about that?” Keith asks, he slides down the bed and sits on floor next to Lance’s feet. One of Lance’s sock has a hole and his big toe is sticking out of it. Lance always has had a hard time letting go of things, even silly items like a pair of worn-out socks. Keith pokes at Lance’s toe with the tip of his finger, awaiting Lance’s usual overexaggerated scoffs and whines. 

 

Lance instead sighs. “I’m sure.” 

 

“Positive?” 

 

“Like a pregnancy test.” 

 

Keith frowns. Even Lance’s humor is off-kilter. “You don’t seem so sure.” 

 

Lance opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but then closes it. Opens it once more, only to close it again. Keith knows that Lance wants to say something, but he also knows that Lance’s head is always so full of thoughts and ideas and that sometimes it can be hard for Lance to voice them out. Lance loves to talk, but when it comes down to it, Lance is always at a loss for words. 

 

Keith’s mind immediately goes through the past week’s interactions. Had he accidentally done something that had pissed Lance off? He thought that Lance had forgiven him for spilling a cup of orange juice down the front of his white shirt. After all, it was Lance’s cat that had tripped Keith up. For some reason, Blue and Keith had never gotten along. 

 

Lance sighs again, but he also sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “Can we, like, play a game or something?” 

 

Keith isn’t going to push at something that Lance doesn’t want to talk about. “Sure.” 

 

It’s on their third round of Mario Kart that Lance finally breaks. He sets his controller down on his lap, staring at the the menu screen. “I’m gay,” he says, voice soft and unsure. 

 

Keith freezes. Out of everything that he thought Lance would say, this is not one of them. This has never been one of them. “Uh,” Keith says because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

 

Lance turns his head to look at him, and Keith knows that he wasn’t supposed to respond like that because Lance is silently crying, big tears making their way down his face, his bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. Lance has never been a pretty crier, but Keith has never seen him look so broken before. It scares Keith. 

 

“I don’t know, actually,” Lance continues. “I mean, like, I think I’m gay? How am I supposed to know if I’m gay or not? There’s no fucking handbook that’s like  _ Ten Things to Make Sure You’re Gay _ . I think girls are pretty too? I’m sorry.” 

 

Keith wants to reach out and comfort Lance, but he doesn’t know how to. Keith shows his affection in small gestures like sending Lance the math homework because he knows that Lance doesn’t get home from practice until late and he’ll be too tired to work on it before bed and too lazy to wake up in the morning to do it. He doesn’t know how to show Lance he cares in this situation. This is so much bigger than catching up on homework. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “It’s okay.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance says again, sobbing. He takes the controller off his lap so he can bring his knees up to his chest and rest his head between his legs. “I just wish things could be normal. I wish I could be normal.” 

 

“Lance,” Keith says, trailing off. 

 

“What do you think my parents will say?” Lance asks, voice muffled. “Why do I have to be like this?” 

 

“You’re you,” Keith reassures. “They’ll love you no matter what.” Keith has no idea if what he’s saying is true or not. He knows that Lance loves his parents more than anything and that his parents love Lance with the same amount of fervor, but they’ve always been a little old-fashioned. If Keith was a girl, the door would have to be left wide open instead of closed like it is now. Keith has never had to think about this before, but the more he thinks about it the more he gets worried for Lance’s sake. What would they say? 

 

“It’s so fucking confusing,” Lance admits. “Why couldn’t I be normal? Why couldn’t I just like girls?” 

 

“It’s okay,” Keith says. He reaches out and puts a hand on Lance’s back, wincing slightly when he can feel the vibrations from Lance’s cries. 

 

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” Lance says. “Did you know that I’ve known for a while now? That I’m not straight? I’m sorry for just telling you now. I’m sorry.” 

 

“Don’t be sorry.” Keith rubs his hand in what he hopes are soothing circles. “You’re still my best friend, Lance.” 

 

“I hated myself. I thought that I was gross and wrong I tried so hard to act like I only liked girls. And now I hate myself for even doing that in the first place.” 

 

“It’s okay,” Keith says again. “It’s okay.” 

 

Lance raises his head and rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. He looks at Keith and then falls into Keith’s arms. Keith can feel the wetness of Lance’s face seep into the shoulder, but that’s the last thing on his mind. Keith has never seen Lance like this, and he never wants to Lance like this again. Lance is supposed to be bad jokes and smooth words. Lance isn’t supposed to be this upset, this fearful. Keith wraps an arm around him. “It’s okay.” 

 

“Thanks for being my best friend,” Lance says. 

 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for getting snot over my shirt.” 

 

“Fuck you.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

 

* * *

 

 

ii

 

Back at the Garrison, when Keith couldn’t sleep, he’d walk around and around and around until he was so physically tired that his mind had to obey and go to bed. He’d walk back into his room quietly and fall onto the bed without pulling down the covers. It would feel like barely fifteen minutes would have passed before he had to force himself up again and fumble to turn off his alarm clock and some days it didn’t just feel like fifteen minutes. It was fifteen minutes. 

 

It got even worse after he met Lance and then even worse when Shiro disappeared. At his own cabin, he could walk if he wanted to, but for some reason, walking made him feel even more isolated than usual. Maybe it was the way that the stars beamed down on him, talking to him about the lives that have been and the lives that lie before him. Maybe it was the urge to get out and explore that could never be fully accomplished. 

 

On the ship, his insomnia doesn’t go away but it’s not as strong as before. Keith blames it to the constant training and the exhaustion that comes from the impending destruction of the universe. But when it hits, it hits and not even Hunk’s warm cooking or Pidge’s endearing chatter can knock him out. 

 

As he did before, he walks. 

 

There is so much to explore on the ship and Keith often gets lost. Most of the time he is aware of where his feet are leading him, but everything looks different at night time with only the dull lights of the hallway lighting up the pathway. He is sure that Allura hasn’t shown them a quarter of the castle’s layout because every time he goes out, he finds something new. 

 

Tonight, he finds a room that shows nothing but the stars. They fill the entire room and he can hear the little Pidge and Hunk in his head rambling about coordinates and the infinite possibilities of mapping and tracking this system can offer them. But Keith’s brain doesn’t work in quite the same way so his initial reaction is to take a deep breath and try to chase away the feeling of utter loneliness. 

 

As a kid, it had been Keith’s entire life’s mission to be able to travel among the stars. But now that he’s here, he wants nothing more than to be back on Earth. 

 

“Pretty cool, huh?” 

 

Keith startles, taking a step back into the hallway. He scans the room and finds Lance sitting in the middle of it, legs crossed and back hunched. Everything is telling Keith to get away and go back to his room because he and Lance have already gotten too close for Keith’s liking. The other day, he caught himself smiling sweetly at Lance when the other boy wasn’t looking and that was manageable, but then he saw Lance smiling the same way back and something in Keith shut itself off. He couldn’t do this, not to himself and not to Lance. But now, Keith is so tired of running away and he can’t sleep so  _ why the fuck not _ . 

 

“It’s a bit overwhelming, actually,” Keith says as he takes another deep breath and steps into the room. The stars swarm him as if he’s their own personal sun and he puts his hand out to touch them. They’re more than likely holographic but they send a warm tingle up his arm. There are so many small, bright stars around them it’s almost as if they’re caught in a snapshot of a blizzard

 

“Tell me about it,” Lance scoffs and he yawns and stretches his hands over his head. He lays down on the floor and points up to a star than Keith can’t quite see. There are so many that Lance might as well have been pointing at all of them. “I think that cluster is the Milky Way.” 

 

Keith sits down next to Lance but he still is not able to see the one Lance is indicting to so he just hums and nods his head. “Why do you think that?” 

 

“I spent a lot of time in astrology class learning about everything that we on Earth knew about the stars. Had to know the universe before you could fly around in it, right?” 

 

Keith looks around himself. He knows exactly what class that Lance is talking about and he faintly remembers sleeping half the time because the teacher had a lethargic sounding voice and pedantic lectures. Keith is impressed that Lance can pinpoint which one is their own galaxy but of course he would never tell Lance this. Keith knows that Lance is not all the bravado that he flaunts, but he also knows that Lance can live without the satisfaction of knowing that Keith is amazed. 

 

“But honestly,” Lance says in between a yawn that muffles his words so badly that he has to repeat them, “that class did jack shit for me so I’m just guessing. It looks like a Milky Way, doesn’t it?” 

 

Now this is the Lance that Keith has come to know in this world. A little bit sassy, a little bit bitter, a whole lot of improvisation that more often than not ends up in favorable situations. “It looks like a Milky Way?” 

 

“Yeah,” Lance says, putting his hands in front of him and wiggling his fingers as if his actions are going to make his words make more sense. “It just looks like a Milky Way. Andromeda's don’t look like that, you know? Andromeda's would have more pizzazz. ” 

 

Keith nods his head but his words are sarcastic: “Of course I know.” 

 

Lance turns his head to look at Keith. “You know what I mean. Stop pretending like you don’t. It’s like, you’re a Keith, you know? You look like a Keith.” 

 

Keith snorts. Lance’s lack of sleep is becoming apparent in the way his words are starting to run together like gibberish. And it shows to Keith’s lack of sleep that he’s going along with it. The rational part of his brain would never let him be this easy, this comfortable with Lance if he was wide awake. “Well that’s because I am a Keith.” 

 

“Yeah, but like. Imagine a world where your name wasn’t Keith and it was Lance or something.” 

 

Keith turns up his nose at the thought of being named Lance. In all his lives that he’s lived, he’s always been Keith. 

 

“See!” Lance exclaims, pointing at Keith’s face. “It wouldn’t work if you were Lance. Your name is Keith, you look like a Keith and the stupid stars-” Lance moves his hand so he’s back to pointing at the cluster of stars in front of them- “look like the Milky Way.” He squints his eyes as if he can see clearer than before. “And that one’s Earth.” 

 

Keith squints his eyes too, just to humor Lance. But if he tilts his head, then yeah. It does look a little bit like Earth. It’s almost as if he can see the green of the continents and the blue of the ocean water. It hurts to look at it and a sense of loneliness over washes him immediately. 

 

It’s funny, even when Keith is on Earth he feels lonely; yet when he’s million miles away, he’s still lonely. It isn’t the area around him that makes Keith lonely, it is Keith himself. Even the universe seems to not be able to get away from Keith, so how is Keith supposed to get away from himself? 

 

“I miss home,” Lance says, voice soft and Keith knows that he wasn’t meant to hear it. Lance and him are rivals at best, friends if they’re truly stretching it. Keith isn’t supposed to know, isn’t allowed to know all of this. 

 

“I never thought I would say this, but I’m tired of being up here. I’m tired of being in space,” Lance says and he sounds as if he has been wanting to say these words for a long time. Lance is always so much, so loud, so vivid, that Keith forgets that Lance has worries and doubts too. There have been so many Lances that Keith has seen that he sometimes forgets the Lance in front of him is struggling as much as Keith himself is. 

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Blue and I love getting the chance to see the entire universe, but I want to go home. I miss sleeping in my bed. I didn’t even tell my mom that I would be gone. Do you think they’re worried about me? Do you think they think that we’re dead?” 

 

Keith takes in a shaky breath. He hasn’t thought about the people back on Earth because there was no one on Earth left to wait for him. “I don’t know what they think. But I hope they-” Keith trails off because he doesn’t know what he hopes. Most days, he doesn’t have room in his head to be able to think. 

 

“Yeah,” Lance says but it’s more of a sigh than anything else. “Me too.” 

 

Lance doesn’t speak again and Keith knows that he’s waiting for Keith to pick up the conversation. But Keith has always been awkward with his words, never knowing the proper way to word his thoughts. One would think that after living life and life, he would learn how to be articulate, but the skill always evades his grasp. “I’m sure your mom misses you,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m sure your entire family does.” 

 

Lance doesn’t reply for a few seconds and Keith thinks that he’s asleep. But right as Keith is about to look at him, Lance speaks up. “I miss her cooking. Hunk is a good cook but he’s not Mom.” He lets out a hollow laugh and it pains Keith is hear it. He had been so involved in his own self and his own problems that he completely overlooked how troubled Lance is from being away from Earth. The homesickness bypassed Keith and seemed to latch entirely onto Lance. “I miss rice and beans. Imagine that, rice and beans.” 

 

“I’m– I don’t know what to say.” 

 

“Then don’t say anything,” Lance says. “I know that we might not have gotten off to the best start, but thanks. Thanks for listening.” 

 

A star next to Keith’s head starts to glow brightly and then explodes in a shower of colorful light. It’s so surprising and abrupt that Keith gasps as the sparkles of light surround him. He wonders if these stars are actually representative of a part of the universe that they have never seen yet or if they’re just pretty stars to look at. The light dies out as soon as it came and for some reason it makes the room look darker and it makes Keith realize how late (or early) it is. They’ll have to get up soon and although Keith tries, he’s not able to survive through the entire day with no sleep. “We should get going,” Keith says, quiet as if he’s afraid of breaking whatever they’ve built up between them. He stretches his legs out in front of him and starts to get up. 

 

Lance extends a hand out towards Keith and Keith grabs it and helps Lance stand up. Lance dusts off his pants and pulls his sweater closer around him. Keith hadn’t noticed it before, but Lance wasn’t even dressed for bed. Keith wonders how long he had been here before Keith had stumbled onto him. 

 

“You know,” Lance says when they’re walking back to the rooms. They both don’t know where they’re going so they have just picked a hallway and stuck to it. 

 

“I know?” Keith asks. They’re both not looking at each other, hands shoved in respective pockets, and with a good few inches between them. 

 

“You know, I’m glad that if I had to be stuck in space and be forced to save the world, that I get to do it with you.” 

 

Keith immediately feels his face flush. Does Lance know exactly what he has said? 

 

The words seem to have slipped from Lance’s mouth before Lance had a chance to comprehend them because he starts to blush and then stammer out a coverup. “Like, I’m glad that I’m here with all of us, you know? Pidge and Hunk too. Even Coran. Hell, I’m glad that Allura’s mice are here as well.” 

 

Keith is exhausted, but it feels like in this life, things can be different. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up because he knows where that path leads, but it’s hard not to hope when Lance is in front of him with sleepy eyes and ruffled clothing. “Goodnight, Lance,” Keith says. 

 

Lance takes a breath and rubs the back of his neck. He’s nervous, Keith thinks. Lance has always rubbed his neck when he doesn’t know quite what to say. “Night, Keith.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates will be on a weekly-ish schedule. in the meantime, follow me on twitter @ [_onceandforall](https://twitter.com/_onceandforall) or tumblr @ [romanuva](http://romanuva.tumblr.com/) for sneak peaks and for crying about lance and keith and the entire vld crew


	2. The Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two confessions, one not-confession, but the fact is that not all lives play out as they are meant to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the tags got updated, but there's really nothing too concerning about that! right? hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated. have a wonderful rest of your day! if you were curious, i was listening to [Chung Ha's Why Don't You Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHgeGRU3wDI) the entire time I was editing.

B 

 

Keith’s at a small campus, but it’s bigger than his high school; Keith didn’t see many of his high school acquaintances (other than Pidge, but then again Pidge has stuck to Keith like glue. They’re even at the same university now.) outside of school so it’s a bit baffling that Keith keeps running into Lance. 

 

It’s becoming a problem. 

 

“I was trying to get coffee,” Keith laments, the empty cup of coffee now sitting on the nightstand of Pidge’s bed. If it was full, Pidge would have made him hold it in his hand, but because it’s empty (and because Keith is her best friend) she lets it slide. “And he was there. Again. He’s always there.” 

 

“Hm,” Pidge hums, her legs folded beneath her as she relaxes on her bed, a book opened on her lap but long forgotten. Knowing Pidge, she’s already read the book before. That’s just the type of person that Pidge is. Keith, on the other hand, is a person that can barely get through the book the first time. He’s always been grateful for the creators of Sparknotes. “If you know that he’s going to be there, then why do you keep going back?” 

 

Keith groans. “I’m not saying that he’s always getting coffee. This is the first time that I’ve seen him there, but I just keep seeing him. I even saw him when I was doing laundry last night! Who else does their laundry in that room? I’ve never seen anyone else in that room other than us.” 

 

Pidge scrunches her face in disgust. The only reason that the two of them use the eerie-looking and probably-mold-infested room is because one of the washers (if you jiggle the knobs in the right way) starts without having to pay anything. It’s free laundry, and Keith had always thought that the room was a little secret kept between the two of them. Apparently not. “Ew, that room is– yeah, no.” 

 

“I know!” Keith exclaims. It’s frustrating. Keith is sure that he’s the only one noticing the weird coincidences as well. Lance never seems to bat an eyelash whenever the two of them are in the same room and it’s just now dawning on Keith that maybe Lance doesn’t even remember him. After all, Keith never gave him his name; they only saw each other once. 

 

“What if he’s stalking you?” Pidge asks, her eyebrows raised high above her glasses and her smile more of a smirk. “Have you been getting weird messages from an unknown number? Have you been feeling that you’re being watched?” She wiggles her fingers in front of herself. “You never know what people are capable of doing.” 

 

“You know,” Keith trails off, his fingers digging into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out his phone. “I have been getting weird messages. Something about–” Keith goes to the most recent text message that Pidge had sent him– “wanting to cry because  _ he _ looked so good when holding a kitten? I’m still not sure if that’s a euphemism or not.” 

 

Pidge looks shocked, her eye wide in that way the only get when Keith is truly able to catch her off guard (or, when she’s talking excitedly about something, like the intricacies of a computer, or the possibilities of life in space, or Hunk). But Pidge is quick and she schools her features into a neutral expression. “I will have you know,” she starts and she folds her arms as if she’s about to say something important, “that Hunk looks great with small animals in his arms. If someone looks cute with a kitten or a puppy, you know it’s a done deal. And no, not an intended euphemism.” 

 

Done deal his ass, Keith thinks. He doesn’t have the heart to break it to her that Hunk probably only likes her as a friend because Pidge has been pining over Hunk for the better part of a year and when Pidge is happy, Keith is happy. But if Pidge is anything else, she is persistent and she’ll dig her way into Hunk’s heart even if she has to use her own shovel. Keith admires that about her. 

 

Most of the time, at least. When the persistence is not placed upon him. 

 

“But don’t think that’s getting you out your boy troubles,” Pidge says, the conversation turning back onto Keith. Keith rolls his eyes; he was so close. 

 

Keith lets his phone fall onto Pidge’s comforter. “I don’t think you can actually classify them as boy troubles,” Keith points out. He barely knows the guy, only knows that his name is Lance and that he has an unusual affinity for playing video games in public libraries at weird hours of the day. Boy troubles seems a little extreme. 

 

Pidge shrugs. “Well, he’s a boy and he’s causing you trouble, no?” Pidge asks, her logic as straightforward as ever. “I think that’s all one needs to classify Lance as boy trouble.” 

 

“Well, you aren’t wrong,” Keith says. “You’re just not right either.” 

 

Pidge pouts, but it’s in a smug type of way. It’s in the wait-until-you-eat-your-words kind of way. Keith doesn’t want to know what she is thinking about. Pidge is Pidge. There’s truly no other way to explain her and all her quirks accurately. 

 

Keith lets out a loud sigh and gets up from her bed. “I have class,” Keith explains. He walks to the mirror that’s conveniently on her dresser and looks at the mess that is his hair. It’s presentable. Barely. But Keith has walked into class with worse. “Phone,” he asks, hand extended. 

 

“Admit that I’m right,” Pidge says, Keith’s phone in her hand. Keith rolls his eyes and just to please her, admits that sure, maybe she’s right. Pidge hands him her phone and Keith plants a small kiss on the top of her head before waving goodbye. 

 

Pidge, ruffling her hair as if it will take away all the evidence of Keith’s kiss, says goodbye. And just as Keith closes the door, Pidge takes her own phone out and sends a quick message. Her smiles to herself; her work here is done. 

 

Boy trouble indeed. 

 ~

Keith really should have seen it coming but he didn’t, and that’s his fault. The warning signs were all there: Pidge’s weird but demanding text messages that triple-checked that yes, he is in fact going to get coffee today; the fact that he hadn’t seen Lance in the last few days. Maybe if Keith was on a normal sleeping schedule and not stressed out about the fact that he’s failed the last three quizzes he’s taken, he would have noticed.  All of his failed quizzes had been in separate classes too. Keith’s not having the best academic luck. 

 

Or any kind of luck for that matter because as Keith sits down at his table, drink in hand, and the only thought on his mind being how good crawling back into bed would feel right now, someone else sits at his table. 

 

Sits, a pleasant way to say that they practically barged into his space, slamming their own cup of caffeine down onto the table before sliding into their seat with all the grace of an elephant. It was as if the person is incapable of making actions that aren’t broad and eye catching. 

 

And it’s Lance. Of course it’s Lance. 

 

“Hey there, mullet guy,” Lance says, pushing the cup of hot coffee towards Keith’s direction. Keith holds up his own cup and with wide eyes, Lance sneakily (he tries) drags the cup towards himself. Very smooth. 

 

“Hey,” Keith replies, a million questions on his tongue. What is Lance doing here? Why is Lance here? Why did he try to give Keith his coffee? He doesn’t really have a mullet, does he? (He does.) 

 

“Fancy running into you here,” Lance says, fidgeting in his seat. Keith looks at him, but Lance is avoiding his eyes – either that or the other student that is across the cafe is stunningly interesting. Keith finds it amusing that Lance could come in with such bravado but then also act like he’s shy. Wait, why would Lance be shy? 

 

Keith nods and takes a sip of his own drink. “Very fancy,” he agrees even though he’s starting to put all the pieces together. It’s not fancy, it’s Pidge. Keith has never underestimated Pidge (except for that one time in high school where he told her that there was no way for one person to finish all the Star Wars movies in one sitting. She did, making Keith sit by her side the entire time. He still gets a little sick any time anyone mentions a Star Wars marathon.), but he truly didn’t see this coming. He didn’t even know Pidge knew Lance, but Pidge has always been the most weirdly social person he knows. It’s a wonder Pidge hadn’t done this sooner. 

 

“Boy troubles,” Keith huffs under his breath. Lance quirks an eyebrow, but says nothing. They sit in a silence for a few seconds, Keith taking a few more sips of his coffee and watching how whenever they make eye contact, Lance is quick to break away. 

 

“I don’t know what Pidge said to you,” Keith says at the exact same time as Lance says, “I don’t really like you very much but-” 

 

They both stumble over their words and stop talking halfway through their sentences. Keith speaks up first: “You don’t like me?” 

 

Lance shrugs. He’s still not looking at Keith. Would it kill him to make eye contact? “There was a but.” 

 

“But what?” 

 

Lance stares into his coffee cup before standing up a little straighter and this is a different Lance that Keith is seeing. This is the Lance that Keith met in the library, with the smirks and the glee-filled eyes and the confidence that almost oozes into arrogance. “But I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend with a mullet and I need to have at least one before I die.” 

 

Keith scowls. “I don’t have a mullet.” 

 

Lance leans back in his seat, the no-eye-contact Lance completely gone. “Drink your drink, mullet boy.” 

 

* * *

 

 

3 

 

The frustrating thing is that Keith has never seen Lance as anything other than his best friend, his brother if he is stretching it. The frustrating thing that there is a dark pool of what he is hesitant to call jealously in his stomach as he watches Lance get ready. The frustrating thing is that Lance looks good in everything that he puts on, even the white band t-shirt that Lance had taken a pair of scissors to. Especially in that white band t-shirt that Lance had taken a pair of scissors to. 

 

The frustrating thing is that Keith maybe, sort-of, perhaps likes Lance. 

 

And Lance doesn’t like him back. 

 

“Remind me again why I’ve watched you try on five different outfits already?” Keith asks, sitting in Lance’s desk chair as Lance comes out from the bathroom with a sour look on his face. Lance shrugs his jacket off before rummaging through his closet again. Keith never knew that Lance had so many so clothes before. 

 

“Because,” Lance hisses, but there is no venom in his words. “By the way, you need to wear something nice, too. I’m not having you going to a party with me when you’re wearing those jeans that look like they are going to fall apart if you sneeze.” 

 

Keith looks down at his pants. Sure, they’re a little worse for wear but they’re cool. Keith has had them since freshman year, and now as a senior he can truthfully call them his lucky pair of pants. Nothing bad has ever happened to him while he was wearing these. Except, of course, Lance deciding at that very moment to take off his shirt. In another perspective, Keith’s lucky pants are living up to their name. “My pants are fine,” he says, half a beat too late. 

 

Lance turns to look at him inquisitively. “Sure, Keith,” he says before turning back and putting another shirt on. He spins on his heel, putting his arms out for exaggeration. “I’m ready!” 

 

Which of course means that he’s found the clothes he is going to wear. He hasn’t done his hair, nor the little bit of makeup he puts on his face. Not to mention that he hasn’t even started on Keith’s outfit. So that’s why two hours later, they’re finally pulling up to the party. Or more like pulling up to the street of the party. There are what seems to be a million cars, and even more teenagers piling out of them. Even if Lance didn’t have the address, they would have easily found the place. 

 

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Keith asks, both of them knowing that the only reason that Keith is at this party is because Lance had begged him to come. “And what’s his name again?” 

 

“His name’s Takashi,” Lance says, grabbing onto Keith’s elbow as they get closer to the front door. Lance is so excited that he doesn’t notice how hard he’s gripping Keith’s arm. Keith is too soft (and a bit too overwhelmed by their proximity) to say anything. “And the plan is to get his number.” 

 

“Just his number?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Lance says humorously, 

 

The gate to the backyard is open so they easily walk in. Keith has never been to a party before, but it’s everything that he has imagined, but with more haze that Keith chalks up to the marijuana. At least he hopes it’s weed. 

 

Keith and everyone at the party knows that the party is on a limited time frame, only going up until the police show up, so it’s not surprising when Lance makes fast work of his plans. 

 

“I see him,” Lance whispers into Keith’s ears. “See you later?” 

 

“Yeah,” Keith says and Lance is gone from his side and slipping into the crowd. Keith watches him from afar, watches as Lance walks up to Takashi with a big smile on his face. Watches as Takashi smiles back, the alcohol in that must be in his system making Takashi’s smile even more enthusiastic. Watches as Takashi wraps his arms around Lance in a hug. Watches as the hug lasts longer than necessary. Watches as Lance looks at Takashi like he’s the universe and everything more. 

 

Why is he doing this to myself? 

 

“Bro,” someone says from behind him. They put a hand on Keith’s shoulder and while Keith has never liked random physical contact (Lance excluded, because when you’ve known someone since you learned to read, these kinds of things were excusable.) but he’s still distracted from Lance and Takashi to comprehend what’s happening. 

 

Keith turns and sees Rolo, one of Keith’s classmates, with a lazy smile on his face. He’s already so gone and the party has only been going on for thirty minutes. Someone pregamed hard. 

 

“You look like you need a drink,” Rolo says. He gestures to Keith’s face, his hands closer than Keith is comfortable with. “Probably a few. Your face looks like someone pissed on puppies.” 

 

Keith debates for a quick second. He’s not the one driving and he already has plans to spend the night at Lance’s house, so there’s nothing holding him back. 

 

Keith hears Lance’s laugh through the din of the crowd. He winces and says, “Just a few.” 

 

~

 

Lance looks crumpled as he sits in the car, fingers drumming a slow and melancholic beat on the steering wheel. Keith stuck to his word and only had a few drinks (read: one) and the slight buzz that the alcohol provided is long gone. 

 

The car is on, the low hum of the engine the only item in the silence. Keith doesn’t know what’s wrong or what went wrong. All he knows is that Lance had walked into the party happy and chatty and had grabbed Keith’s hand an hour and a half later, telling them that they needed to leave. 

 

He had looked mad, so mad that Keith knew they needed to get out of there before he snapped. But then the snap never came. Or never came in the way that Keith thought it was. Lance isn’t mad anymore, he’s upset. 

 

It had to be Takashi’s fault, right? Rejection has never hit Lance this hard before, but then again Keith has never seen Lance this excited about anyone before. There hasn’t been a girl or a boy that made Lance smile the soft way that Takashi has, never had been one that Lance had gushed over like the way he gushed over Takashi. It hurts to admit it, but even Keith hadn’t been able to make Lance like that. In a weird sort of way, he’s glad that Takashi turned Lance down. Lance deserves better anyway. Takashi seemed like a douche. 

 

Lance takes in a deep breath, drawing Keith’s attention to him. Lance rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and then rubs his hands on his pants. “He has a girlfriend,” he says and he sounds so heartbroken that Keith takes back what he said about being glad that Takashi and Lance are no longer a thing. It hurts to watch Lance be upset and he can’t even imagine what Lance is going through at the moment. 

 

Lance sighs and lets out a soft laugh, but it’s without humor. “Why is it always the straight guys? They’re always straight and it sucks.” He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. “Keith, why are they always straight?”

 

Lance says his question like it’s a joke, but the subliminal intent goes right over Keith’s head. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. The only person that Keith has ever liked, the only person that he has ever loved is right in front of him and is no way, shape, or form straight. Keith reaches his hand across the car and grabs on to Lance’s hand, rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his hand. Lance’s hands are so soft and Keith desperately doesn’t want to have to be in a situation like this to be able to hold them. 

 

“I don’t think I actually liked him,” Lance admits as they drive back to Lance’s house. Lance pulls into his driveway and shuts off the car, and Keith notices how the porch light is still on. Lance’s parents are more than likely waiting for them to come back. It’s a loving gesture, but Keith knows that Lance doesn’t want to go in with red eyes and tear streaks down his cheeks; it makes sense that Lance would stall. 

 

“What makes you think that?” Keith asks to humor him. If Lance didn’t like Takashi, then what was this entire night about? 

 

Lance nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I just think I was using him to get over someone else, but look at how that turned out for me.” Lance is dismissive and Keith hates how he puts himself down. 

 

“Lance…” 

 

“You already knew that didn’t you?” 

 

No. Keith didn’t know that all. He’s confused as why he Lance would think that Keith knows, so he stays quiet as he tries to formulate a response. 

 

Lance takes his silence as an answer, apparently, as he sinks deeper in his seats and mutters something that Keith doesn’t quite catch. 

 

“What did you say?” Keith asks, voice sharper than he intended for it to be. He already has an apology on his tongue because he knows that Lance has had a rough day and the last thing that he needs is for his best friend to bite at him, but Lance suddenly shoots up in his seat, slaps his hands on the dashboard, and then points a finger at Keith. 

 

“It’s you, dumbass. I’m trying, and failing, to get over you.” 

 

~

 

Lance is out of the car and is halfway through stomping to his front door before Keith catches his wrist and pulls him back. Lance shakes his wrist and Keith’s grip is loose enough that Lance’s hands falls through it. Keith wants to talk to Lance, wants Lance to have a chance to explain, wants a chance for himself to explain as well, but he’s not going to force Lance to do something that he doesn’t want to. 

 

Lance stills, his back facing Keith. From the heavy shuddering of his shoulders, Keith can tell that he’s breathing in deeply, the kind of deep breath that he takes when he’s trying to stop himself from crying. 

 

“Did you mean it?” Keith asks, because he needs to know. 

 

“Did I mean what?” Lance retorts. 

 

“You know what.” 

 

“No, actually I don’t.” Lance turns to face him. He’s biting his bottom up and his arms are crossed over his chest. It’s so Lance that Keith doesn’t want to do anything but hug him. So he does. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Keith says into the crook of Lance’s neck. Lance doesn't hug him back so Lance’s arms are digging directly into Keith’s stomach, but he isn’t pushing Keith back either. Keith apologizes again and can feel as the tension starts to leave Lance’s body. 

 

“You’re sorry? For me liking you? Get over yourself,” Lance says sarcastically, voice broken up by soft hiccups. 

 

“I’m sorry for not telling you that I like you sooner,” Keith says and Lance tenses up in his embrace again. “Because I do, I like you so much that it hurts.” 

 

“It hurts?” Lance asks, incredulous. 

 

Keith nods. “Yeah, it does. But that might also be because you’re stepping on my foot.” 

 

Lance jumps at the information, but gets off Keith’s foot. Keith hadn’t minded because there were plenty of more important things going on (read: an overdue confession), but he’s not going to lie and say that having circulation back in his toes isn’t a plus. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” 

 

In the middle of all this, in the middle of a crappy night, in the middle of Lance’s front yard, in the middle of a somewhat complete confession scene, Lance and Keith meet eyes and laugh. 

 

“This is so stupid,” Lance wheezes, bent over to rest his hands on his knees and tears back in his eyes but this time good-naturedly. 

 

Keith is on the ground after having collapsed when his body couldn’t stand his laughter anymore. “The stupidest.” 

 

Lance falls to the ground next to him. The grass is wet with dew and the light of the porch is flickering on and off, but Keith can’t find it in himself to care. 

 

“I’ve liked you, since, like, forever, you know?” Lance says, bumping his shoulders into Keith’s. 

 

“You have?” Keith asks. He hadn’t thought about Lance in a romantic way until recently, until after his infatuation with Takashi started, actually. 

 

“Yeah,” Lance says, smile wide and teeth as brilliant as the stars above them. It’s a dumb comparison and Keith knows it, but he can’t help himself. He’s so happy that he likes Lance and Lance likes him back. Never in a million years would he have pictured them together, but here they are. 

 

“I think it was the Superman thing that initially won me over, to be honest. Really showed how much of a man you were.” 

 

Keith scoffs at the memory. “You remember that? Fuck, that was so long ago.” 

 

“Tell me about it,” Lance says and he oh-so-casually takes Keith’s hand in his. Everything slows down for a second and it’s so quiet that Keith can hear his own breaths. Then Lance is kissing him and it’s the best thing that has ever happened. 

 

He could kiss Lance forever, if he could. But the universe decides that he can’t because the sprinklers choose that time to come blazing to life, drenching both of them in freezing cold water. 

 

They jump up, laughing and holding hands and rush inside. Keith pushes Lance’s wet hair away from his face and kisses him once more before entering the house because he can. 

 

It isn’t until two week laters, two blissful weeks full of navigating a blossoming relationship and soft kisses and holding hands at any time available, that Keith starts to remember. 

 

Keith quickly learns that sometimes it’s better to forget. 

 

* * *

 

iii

 

One of the first lessons that Allura and Coran have them do consists of the paladins losing connection with each other. The biggest thing that Allura emphasized, hands in front of her on the control panel and her words slow and deliberate, is to not panic. 

 

So, of course when the comm system starts to blinker out, Lance freaks. 

 

“Blue, what’s going on?” Lance whisper yells, not aware that the other paladins can hear him loud and clear. “Oh my god.” 

 

“Lance, calm down. We’re fine,” Shiro says and Keith can hear Lance’s sigh of relief. “We’ve just lost contact with the castle. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. We all know our plan, right?” 

 

“Sneak in, save the kidnapped people, and get out of here?” Pidge says. Her voice is a little faint but still audible. Are all the comms system failing? It doesn’t matter if they do go out because this mission is routine at this point. It’s a standard get in, rescue, get out. The Galra ships that are here are old and practically useless. But they are still there and that’s what matters. Saving the universe doesn’t get done by only doing the glamorous jobs. 

 

“Safely,” Hunk says. “Get out of here safely.” 

 

“Course,” Keith says and that’s the last thing he says, last thing he remembers. 

 

When Keith comes to, his head is pounding and his mouth feels raw and dry, as if someone had stuffed it full of sawdust. He coughs and the slight movement makes his entire body burst into pain. He tries to open his eyes, but even that is too hard of an effort to make. He takes a breath, ignoring how the air stings as it flows through his open mouth, and tries to relax himself. He can feel his body starting to panic, but panicking will only make things worse. 

 

A minute later, Keith is able to open his eyes and he wishes that he hadn’t. There’s nothing but blackness all around him and it’s suffocating. He closes his eyes, but the darkness behind his lids seems blacker than before and it’s putting Keith on edge. He tries to recall what had happened, the string of events that had led him here – wherever here is – but all he remembers is the team starting the mission.

 

A sudden fear racks through Keith’s body as he realizes that he’s all alone. If he doesn’t know where he is, how are the other’s supposed to know? Keith moves around, eyes still closed, and sighs in relief when his body isn’t in as much pain as before. Other than the raw feeling in his throat, he doesn’t seem to have any big injuries. He’s sure he’s cut up and bruised, but he thanks whomever is watching over him for having manageable injuries. He can only imagine if something disastrous had happened when he’s all by himself. 

 

He forces himself to open his eyes once more and when he does, the black isn’t as black as he thought it was. There’s a faint red glow above him and it comforts Keith as he recognizes the lights as Red’s. “Hey, girl,” Keith says, or least try to say because his words come out as one harsh grunt. “Red, where are we?” he says, voice clearer this time. He sits up and blood rushes to his head. He closes his eyes again for a second to regain his composure, opens them, and then stands up. 

 

Red doesn’t respond and so Keith asks the question again, and nothing but silence greets him back. “Shit,” Keith says. He doesn’t know where he is, and now Red is out of the game as well. Keith assumes that they’ve crash landed somewhere because the area around them is surprisingly stable, but Keith has no way to know for sure. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

 

Keith looks around at the small area that he has. There’s enough food and water to last him two weeks, but then what? He needs to get Red running back up well before that to make sure that he doesn’t run out of necessities when he’s aimlessly wandering in space. “Well, fuck,” Keith says because there’s no one here to tell him otherwise. 

 

He is about to take a seat in his pilot’s chair and try to figure out how to get Red back on when he hears a faint knock. He pauses, waiting to hear it again, but there’s nothing. It must have been in his imagination, and Keith quickly goes to his food storage and drinks half a bottle of water to make sure that he’s not hallucinating from dehydration. He bites into a what he hopes is a protein bar and he hears another knock. Keith freezes, pseudo-protein bar half-hanging out of his mouth, because he’s sure that he heard it this time. He hears another knock, heavier this time, and then three more in rapid succession. There is someone, or something, out there that’s trying to get in. 

 

Things are quiet again for a moment, two, and Keith knows how this is going to go. He’s seen enough horror movies to know that he’s going to be in trouble if he continues to stand still like an idiot. Keith moves so he’s facing the entire area. In one hand, he’s holding his half-eaten protein bar and the other hand is searching blindly for his bayard. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off the area where the knocks were coming from, just in case. 

 

His hand lands on the bayard in the same instant there’s another knock, and then there’s light flooding into the ship and Keith instantly brings his hand to cover his eyes, but then brings it back down because dammit– he needs to see what’s happening. 

 

“Found the entrance,” someone says because it sure as hell isn’t Keith that said it. Keith is staring, too shocked to say anything. Lance is before him, leaning heavily against the open entrance. He takes a step inside and Keith would take a step backwards if he wasn’t already out of space. 

 

“Hey, Keith,” Lance says and his words slur together. “Did you know it’s rude to ignore someone when they’re knocking on your door?” Lance takes in a huge gulp of air, takes another step forward, and Keith notices how beat up he looks. His helmet is off and his uniform is dirty and scratched up as he he’s been dragged through mud and rocks and sand and then some. There’s a large red mark on the side of his face and it’s blood– of course it’s blood. 

 

“It’s, like, really rude,” Lance says and then he drops to the floor. 

 

~

 

There’s enough medical supplies to clean up Lance’s injuries, but Keith doesn’t trust himself with needles and there’s no anaesthetic around them so he tries securing Lance’s gash as well as he can with gauze and tape. There’s nothing that can really be done with the scrapes and stains to the uniforms. Though, if it’s Lance’s life or a little bit of blood on the floor of Red, he’ll take the blood any day. 

 

There was a moment between when Lance had just fallen and Keith hadn’t comprehended the situation where there was a flood of memories that bombarded Keith, showing Keith all the different scenarios that had once happened when Lance had fallen in front of him, some of them pleasant, some of them not. 

 

Luckily, Keith kept his wits around him and within an hour, Lance stirred again. Keith gave him water and a little food, and they spent a day together, resting and eating and drinking, a little too traumatized and scared to wander around the world that they’ve landed on, but coherent enough to talk about what lead to their situation. 

 

Lance remembered more than Keith does and he filled Keith in on the blanks. The comms system had been failing, but not just out of the blue. The Galra ships that they thought were largely unoccupied were, in fact, occupied, and they had somehow separated the Lions from each other. Lance said that Pidge could explain it better. They took Red and Keith first, so that explained why Keith remembered close to nothing about the events. 

 

“We have to be somewhere close to each other,” Keith reasons. “I mean, we landed on the same planet, didn’t we? That has to mean that we’re all around in the same area.” 

 

They’re sitting on the control panel, Red still not responding to anything that Keith does. Lance had said that the the Lions were mostly likely infected with a Galra virus that cut off communication and made them easier to be separated from each other. Hopefully, Red would be back to normal in a few days but there was no telling when. 

 

“This is a pretty small planet, too,” Lance says. “The only reason that I got out of Blue was because she told me that there was another paladin here. But then she went to sleep, I guess.” He stretches his arms above his head and Keith hears his joints pop and crack. “You know,” he continues, and he gestures to the pile of food that’s in the corner, “if Red doesn’t start working soon, we’re going to run out of goods. The food supply is only good for one healthy paladin. We’re two–” Lance points to the bandage on his face. The blood is starting to seep through even though Lance had just changed it. He needs stitches for it to fully heal, “–not so healthy paladins.” 

 

“I know,” Keith says and he turns to get the first-aid kit back out. He finds the gauze and gestures for Lance to come closer. He does and Lance kneels immediately so Keith doesn’t have to reach to replace the bandage. They’ve done this so many times over the past two days that it’s become routine. “But what are we supposed to do? Run out and try to find Blue? You saw what happened to you when you tried to find me.” 

 

“Last time I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I didn’t even use my bayard.” He hisses as Keith rubs his forehead with an alcohol pad and Keith mutters a quick apology. “It’s either that, or die here from starvation.” 

 

“Red could start back up any minute,” Keith counters. It’s selfish, so selfish, but Keith doesn’t want Lance to get any more hurt than he already is. He’s seen the lives where Lance is too carefree, too foolish, and he knows the worst-case scenario. If he can hold onto Lance a little bit longer, Keith will. Keith taps Lance’s forehead to let him know that he’s done and Lance gets to his feet. 

 

“I need to go back to Blue, Keith. She misses me,” Lance says, pouting slightly. “What if her systems are back online?” 

 

“There’s some nasty stuff out there, Lance. Look at yourself. You were out there for not any longer than half an hour and you got fucked up.” 

 

“I told you, I didn’t know what I was up against. I do now. Whatever creature that is inhabiting this planet is ugly, but manageable,” Lance says as he reaches for his bayard. Keith sighs, puts away the first-aid kit, grabs a water bottle, and then also reaches for his bayard. This is another constant that runs through all the lives that Keith has lived: wherever Lance goes, Keith will follow. 

 

“Hey, at least we know that air is breathable,” Lance says. “I mean, I didn’t die immediately when I stepped outside with my helmet, so that has to count for something, right?” 

 

~

 

“You,” Keith huffs, swinging his sword through a hunk of flesh. “Are. An. Idiot.” The creatures on this planet are just as ugly as Lance said, and they’re somewhat manageable. What Lance failed to mention was how big they were, and exactly how many there are. 

 

They’re huge, worm-like creatures with a mouth that’s full of pointed razors. They’re longer than Keith is tall and just as wide as Keith’s shoulders. Keith swings through another one and backs away, but on top of being big, they’re also fast. Way faster than they have any right to be. No wonder Lance got hurt if he came out of his Lion with nothing more than a plan to run. 

 

“Blue is over the ridge, okay?” Lance says, but Keith has guess that’s what he’s saying because his words are muffled by his use of his own bayard. Lance works better at a distant, but he’s holding his own with the hand-to-hand combat. “We just need to get there and we’ll be fine.” 

 

“You call this fine?” Keith yells, making his way towards Lance. Maybe they’ll work better if they’re closer together and not trying to fight two separate battles. 

 

“I didn’t say this was fine!” Lance yells. “I said that we will be fine. Duck!” 

 

Keith ducks as Lance fires a shot above his head and into the creature behind him. Keith hadn’t even know that it was behind him. “We need to get to the ridge then,” Keith says. 

 

“Lead the way,” Lance replies as he fires another shot. “You see that rock that’s split in two over there? There should be a path down there. That’s where I came up from.” 

 

It proves easier said than done because the worms seem to be coming from everywhere. Keith is drenched in sweat and his hand is cramping from the tight hold he has on his bayard, but they’re so close to the ridge that there’s no room to give up now. By his side, Lance is breathing heavily and his bandage is stained a dark red. His eyes look a little glossed over, but his jaw is set as he tries to keep his focus on the creatures around them. 

 

They finally reach the ridge and they know that they only have a minute or two before the creatures start swarming them again, but it doesn't matter now. There’s no way down unless they want to jump down fifty or more feet. 

 

“I swear, it was right here,” Lance pants, leaning heavily against his bayard. “It was right fucking here, oh my god.” 

 

To top it all off, Keith can see Blue. She’s resting against the wall of the ravine, waiting for them. But there’s no way for them to get down without some serious consequences. They have no choice to turn back, but Keith doubts that they have enough energy to get back to Red in one piece. They’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or, to put it in more relevant terms, bloodthirsty worm creatures and a suicidal jump. 

 

“There’s no other way down, is there?” Keith asks even though he already knows the answer. From where he can see, there’s no path down. They could make one if they had the time and the materials, but they’re lacking both. All they have it their will and even that is fading quickly. 

 

“It was right here,” Lance says, voice soft and fragile. He starts to cry, silent and slow tears. “I’m sorry, I just led us to our deaths, didn’t I?” 

 

“No, you didn’t,” Keith says because he refuses to die here, with this life barely lived. He has already spent the majority of this life avoiding Lance and now the time he gets with him is cut short? Keith calls bullshit. Fuck you too, fate. “We’re going to go back to Red and figure it out from there. We’ll make it through this.”

 

“Keith, I’m going to pass out if I take another step.” Lance cracks a watery smile. “As of right now, there are two of you in front of me anyways.” 

 

Keith feels his throat starting to close in on itself. No, this can’t be happening. He’s not going to lose Lance right now, he can’t. He reaches out to grab onto Lance’s arm and Lance falls into his grasp. “Lance, stay with me. I can’t fight these ugly ass worms all by myself. Lance, please.” 

 

Keith looks around his surroundings and sure enough, the creatures are starting to return. They haven’t spotted them yet, but Keith knows it’s only a matter of time before they do. In the meantime, Lance needs to get up so they can fight their way back. It’s the only option they have left. 

 

“Keith, you got to know something,” Lance says with his last strength. 

 

“Is it you’re going to get up right now and we’re going to make it back to Red safe and okay?” Keith replies and that’s the only reply that he’s willing to take. 

 

“I love you.” 

 

A million  _ I love you _ s go through Keith’s heads. I love you said during early morning wakeups, I love you said when it’s only the two of them, I love you said just to be said. I love you. There’s a small number of I love yous said right before something bad happens, but this can’t be one of them, right? Keith has tried so hard to distance himself from Lance in this life, distance himself from the heartbreak and the sorrow but like Keith always follows Lance, Lance always finds Keith – as long as the universe permits. 

 

“You need to know. I needed to let you know,” Lance says and he’s fading out, his words becoming whispers. 

 

Keith holds onto Lance tighter. He wants to cry out, wants to beg for Lance to stay awake, but that’ll draw attention to themselves that they don’t need, attention that they can’t handle. “Lance, I love you too.” 

 

Lance takes in a shaky breath and laughs but all that comes out is a wet hack. “That’s– that’s good to know.” 

 

Keith knows that their time is up when the creatures spot them. There’s nothing for him to do but look at their disgusting features coming closer and bury his head into the crook of Lance’s neck so he doesn’t have to see it. Fucking fate for choosing this to be the way they have to go, on an unknown planet, separated from all their friends, terrified and hurt but somehow still together. 

 

~

 

Keith feels Lance’s shallow breathing against his own chest. He waits for the creatures to reach them but they never do. 

 

“I found them!” Pidge says, her voice blasted through the speaker system of her Lion. Keith hears and feels the landing of her lion more than he sees it and he’s so grateful that all he can do is cry. He feels a warm hand on his shoulder and a soft voice telling him that it’s okay and that’s Allura, peeling Keith and Lance away from each other so Shiro can carry Lance back up to the ship and put him in a healing pod. 

 

They’ve found them, the other paladins, Keith’s makeshift family. Fuck fate, Keith thinks again as Allura helps him to his feet and he sees Pidge and Hunk rushing around, clearing the creatures from the area. This life is in own hands. 

 

* * *

 

C 

 

Keith doesn’t like anything about Lance. He doesn’t like the way that Lance has figured out his class schedule so they can walk from class to class together, a gentle silence growing between them they neither of them feel the need to break. He doesn’t like the way that Lance’s number has somehow found its way into Keith’s phone and how Lance texts in annoying text speak, causing Keith to reread the message just to get what Lance means. He doesn’t like the way Lance walks, the way he dresses, how he talks, how he styles his hair. The list goes on and on. 

 

And so this? Them meeting at a restaurant on a Saturday afternoon that they both have free? This isn’t a date, no matter how much Pidge says it is. Pidge is wrong, okay, and he tells her this in a text message before straightening his shirt and walking into the restaurant. Lance is in the back, a glass of water already in his hands, and he waves Keith over. 

 

They talk about mundane things, how Lance’s economics test went, (Horribly, according to Lance who sighed into his salad and talked about how the teacher has a personal vendetta against him.), how Keith finally got a new computer and how he’s determined to not let anybody near it. 

 

“Not even me?” Lance pouts, as if Keith will fall for it. Lance isn’t cute and he can’t pout very well. Even his puppy dog eyes look more like he’s trying very hard not to sneeze. 

 

“Not even you,” Keith agrees. “Knowing you, you’ll probably download something sketch and give it a virus. Then you’re paying for it, okay? Not me.” 

 

“Virus, smirus. I know what I’m doing. Computers have always been my forte, I will have you know.” 

 

Keith smiles into his food. Lance has a way to over exaggerate things in random ways, making the situation feel like it’s turned up to eleven on a ten-point scale. It’s not a bad thing, not overwhelming. It’s just a Lance thing. With Lance, Keith feels like laughing harder, smiling wider. It’s one of the few things that he likes about Lance. “Sure, sure. Is that why you were playing video games in the library?” 

 

“I will have you know that if I didn’t use the library computers like I do, we would have never met.” 

 

Lance does have a point, but he’s not going to concede that easily. “How do you know that I even wanted to meet you in the first place?” he counters. 

 

Lance smirks and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I feel like us meeting was a fate kind of thing. You know, like, higher power thing. I mean, all our friends are friends, so we were bound to meet sooner or later. It was lowkey a miracle that we didn’t meet at all before that.” 

 

Keith is about to say that there’s no way for their meeting to be fate, considering that Keith doesn’t even believe in fate, but then the waiter brings the rest of their food and the conversation gets lost and afterwards, neither of them find it again. 

 

~

 

They’re getting ice cream after watching a terrible horror film – so bad that even Hunk who jumps when the flights flicker for half a second is laughing – when Lance asks the question. 

 

Keith had seen it coming. From the date-not-dates to the constant text messaging to the way that Lance fell asleep in Keith’s dorm room the week before during a Dexter marathon and how Keith let him spend the night. 

 

“Are we dating?” The shy Lance is back, dragging his spoon around his cup. Over the weeks of friendship, (because yes, they are friends) Keith has learned that Lance can be loud and abrasive when he’s confident– or trying to act confident. But Lance can also be quiet and worried when he’s nervous or uneasy. He may try to hide his emotions by making himself seem larger than life, but at the end of the day, Lance is Lance and Keith knows him. 

 

Wow. Keith does know him. 

 

So Keith knows that Lance is truly asking the question, not joking about or making fun of each other. He’s asking because he wants to know, but Keith doesn’t know how to respond. Are they dating? Keith hadn’t let himself think of Lance like that. In his head, Keith still doesn’t like Lance. Lance barely crosses the border between acquaintance and friend. 

 

Keith takes too long to respond, so Lance starts talking again. “I was talking to my mom the other day, and she asked me if I had anyone special. I told her I don’t know. Kind of a shitty answer, right? But.” He sighs and looks over to where Hunk and Pidge are sitting. Keith and Lance still haven’t figured out their feelings, but Pidge’s insistence has seemed to paid off. Hunk looks at her so fondly that Keith feels like he’s intruding on something, even though all that they’re doing is sharing ice cream and talking about how bad the movie was. “But I truly don’t know.” 

 

“I–” Keith begins. Lance needs an answer, but all that can come out of Keith’s mouth is silence. Yes, he knew this question would be coming, but that doesn’t mean he’s prepared for it. He doesn’t think he wants to date Lance, doesn’t think that he even likes Lance, but there’s an undeniable pull that Keith feels towards him that Keith doesn’t know how to explain. 

 

Lance scoops up the last of his ice cream and eats it. “Don’t let your ice cream melt,” he says, pointing his spoon at Keith’s cup. Keith had completely forgotten about his ice cream, but he’s not feeling the sweetness anymore. All he can think about is Lance’s question. Are they dating? Does Keith even want to date Lance? 

 

Keith finishes his ice cream, not tasting it, and throws their cups away. “I’m sorry for not knowing what to say,” he says when he gets back to their table. Lance needs an answer, though, not an apology. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say until he says it. “I think we are dating, though.” 

 

Keith’s own words surprise him, but they are dating, almost, and even Keith can’t deny it. He might have said over and over that he doesn’t like Lance, that he only puts up with Lance because Lance is always around him, but Keith likes Lance’s presence. He likes hanging around with Lance, likes hearing his input on mundane things, likes… He likes Lance. He’s liked Lance for a long time. Keith knows he can be dense, but to be dense enough that he hides his own feelings from himself? Yeah, that sounds like Keith. 

 

Lance stares at him, wide-eyed and in shock. “We are?” he asks, mouth gaping a bit. He obviously didn’t expect this answer. 

 

Keith sits down, his knee hitting the table as he moves. He’s flustered, uncertain of what’s to come. “I mean, if you want us to be.” 

 

“I do,” Lance says immediately, not even a second of hesitation. He realizes that his answer came out hasty and forceful and so he backtracks: “I mean, if you’re cool with that too.” 

 

Keith can’t help but laugh. This is so awkward, but Keith’s okay with it. “Yeah,” he says, still giggling. “I’m cool with it.” 

 

Lance tries to suppress a smile and fails. “Good, because I’m like, ice-cold with it. Almost freezing.” 

 

Keith rolls his eyes. “You’re so weird.” 

 

Lance lets his smile take over his face, making his eyes brighter and his body position more relaxed. Keith laughs too, a warm feeling running through his body. 

 

~

 

“I’m breaking up with you,” Lance says abruptly, putting his books back in his bag and zipping it closed. The zipper snags on the fabric and Lance huffs, spending a few more seconds trying to get it free. Begrudgingly, he hands it over to Keith. 

 

Keith takes the bag and gets the zipper unstuck with a few quick motions. “No, you’re not,” he replies. 

 

Lance scoffs, taking his bag back. “And how do you know that?” 

 

Keith hides a small laugh. Lance is always so much, but Keith can never get enough of him all the same. Dating hasn’t changed much about their relationship, other than the obvious physical aspects. It’s nice because being with Lance is as easy as breathing. It’s nice holding Lance’s hand because he can. It’s nice being able to stare at Lance’s profile and the way his nose is a little crooked because of a fall he took in high school. Even their petty argument-not-arguments are enjoyable. A little voice in Keith’s head that sounds suspiciously like Pidge informs Keith is  _ whipped _ . “Because you’re not breaking up with me just because I don’t think that pineapple shouldn’t go on pizza.” 

 

“Blasphemy,” Lance hisses. He shrugs his backpack onto his shoulder and holds out a hand for Keith to take. Keith finishes putting his stuff away and takes his hand, intertwining their fingers. They had been working together at a cafe when they had both gotten hungry and started talking about options for dinner. Lance insisted on pineapple pizza and Keith was not having it. “Pineapple on pizza is a staple of this economy and I won’t stand for this blatant ignorance.” 

 

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but no fruit belongs on pizza,” Keith says. 

 

“And a tomato isn’t a fruit?” 

 

“A tomato is a vegetable that’s cosplaying as a fruit. Everyone knows that.” 

 

Lance leans into Keith, letting go of Keith’s hand to wrap his arm around Keith’s shoulders. Lance is barely taller than Keith, but he likes to take advantage of that difference. Keith finds himself not minding. “Your excuses to why pineapple can’t be on pizza are outstanding,” Lance says, light humor in his tone. “I’ll give you five stars for your creativity.” He presses a kiss to the top of Keith’s head and Keith can’t help but cave in. 

 

“Fine,” Keith says under his breath. He’s trying to sound exasperated but it’s so fond that it misses its point completely. “We can get pineapple pizza for dinner tonight.” 

 

Lance laughs, a clear sound that goes right to Keith’s heart. With that laugh, Keith realizes that he loves Lance. It’s a deep kind of love that settles into the bones and makes itself known through mundane actions. He looks at Lance and loves him. The sun is setting and it makes Lance look like he’s glowing. He loves Lance. There’s something about Lance that Keith just can’t get enough of. He’s addicting to be around, addicting to look at. 

 

“Yes!” Lance cheers. He squeezes Lances shoulders and Keith should tell him this new revelation, but that can wait. Right now, he’s here with Lance around him and the promise of pizza (even if it’s with pineapple) on the horizon. “You’re the best, Keith.” 

 

* * *

 

 

4 

 

The memories come in spurts; rare when he’s conscious, but even rarer when he’s dreaming. They mostly come when Keith is in that half-state between awakeness and sleeping. Keith has taken to stop zoning out, stop daydreaming. But the less he does that, the more they come at other times and he learns that there is no use stopping them. 

 

He learns that these memories are his and his alone. 

 

The first memory comes after he’s pushed the snooze button on his alarm clock but before he has actually gotten out of bed. Those few minutes always seem to be the best sleep he gets, and this time they seem even sweeter. He dreams of Lance, an older Lance with wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. He reaches out to touch Lance’s hand and sees that his hand has also been grooved by time. He wakes up and goes through the rest of his day, thoughts of growing old with Lance seeping into every idea. But the weird thing: the more he recalls his dream, the more it feels less like a dream and more like a memory. It’s impossible, of course, but dreams always have a surreal quality to them and as the day passes, the dream of growing old with Lance is soft and lovingly worn-down. It feels the same as when Keith recalls his mother putting his first-grade report card on the fridge. The emotions are all there, just duller. Keith can still feel the pride and joy, just a bit muted. And with the dream of Lance, he can feel love and compassion in a quantity that he has never felt before, but it feels reminiscent. 

 

Keith chalks to the stress of school making his brain overwork itself, but then it happens again and again and again and Keith just wants them to stop. 

 

He learns this: Lance is not his and he is not Lance’s. Keith has gone through too many lives to count, has too many experiences to separate so something he’s not sure if he’s recalling one thing or multiple things all strung together. Sometimes Keith never finds Lance, or they find each other and they’re only on perpendicular paths, seeing each other for a brief, fleeting moment. Sometimes they are together, but not meant to be, growing apart as they grow up, the thread that stitches them coming undone until there’s nothing left to be salvaged. Sometimes there’s a catastrophe, and Keith never meets Lance because there was never a Lance for him to meet (In some life, some time in the 1990s, Keith is skimming a newspaper and sees Lance’s name in the obituaries. The memory abruptly stops there.) Sometimes they get to grow old together and those are the sweetest memories, tinted with a warm hue and comforting images. 

 

Keith wants for this life to be a good life. He’s felt what it’s like to be heartbroken, absolutely devastated, and wants nothing of it. This is his life, with his choices to make, and Keith’s going to make the right ones. 

 

At least what he thinks are the right ones. Right now, he’s not too sure, but he has to do something because the roads are icy and slippery and there are already reports of major accidents happening because of the black ice. 

 

“Keith, goddamnit, I know how to drive in the snow. I need to go to class, we’re doing a lab today,” Lance says as he is bent down by the front door, tying his shoelaces. They’re in the off-campus apartments that their school offers to upperclassmen. Miraculously, they had gotten into the same university and although they didn’t room together for their first three years, here they are as seniors. Keith gets to wake up each morning to Lance’s terrible bed head and grumpy mood and Keith is utterly, overwhelming joyful. 

 

Until, of course, Lance decides to do something stupid and reckless like going outside in terrible weather where he could have an accident and worst-case scenario,  _ die _ . Keith wants to hold onto Lance for as long as possible, so if he would only be a little less stubborn and see the situation from Keith’s perspective. (Which is never going to happen because Keith has never told him nor does he have any plans of telling him of the fact that this is not their first life together. Lance would think he’s crazy; it wouldn’t be the first time.) 

 

“But do you really have to go out?” Keith asks, draping himself over the back of the coach. “Please, stay with me. We can watch whatever show you want. We can even watch that weird one– you know, that Cardcapturer one.” 

 

Lance scoffs good-naturedly. “Cardcaptor Sakura is a classic, thank you very much. But really, I have to get going.” Lance puts on his backpack and adjusts the beanie on his head so his ears are no longer sticking out. 

 

“Please,” Keith whines. “Your lab partner can just send you her notes, please. Pretty please.” 

 

“Nope, sorry.” Lance walks over to give Keith a goodbye kiss and Keith grabs onto his wrist. “Keith,” Lance warns. 

 

“I have a bad feeling about you leaving.” 

 

Lance scrunches up his face and then leaves a kiss on the top of Keith’s head. “You have bad feelings about a lot of things.” 

 

It’s because I don’t want you out of my life, Keith doesn’t say. “I worry.” 

 

Lance sweetly kisses Keith’s cheek. “You know,” he says, a little mirth in his tone, “you never were like this in high school. What changed?” 

 

Keith recoils slightly, not because of what Lance said but because of all the things that he can’t say. “Stay.” He tightens his grip on Lance’s wrist. 

 

“Keith,” Lance says. “Let go.”

 

Keith doesn’t. 

 

“Shit, Keith, I’m serious. Let go of me.” When Keith doesn’t, Lance rips his arm free and storms to the door. “Jeez, I’ll be back,” he says before opening the door and stepping outside. 

 

Keith doesn’t see the door shut, only hears it because he’s collapsed back onto the couch. He lets out a heavy sigh and chastises himself. He knows nothing bad is going to happen and that he is being paranoid. Lance is right, he used to never act like this and Keith doesn’t want to act like this, but he’s given no choice. It’s like delivering something luxurious, fragile, and made of glass. You can prevent the worst from happening to it by wrapping it up in bubble wrap. But then again, Lance isn’t made of glass and Keith isn’t bubble wrap. 

 

Lance comes home four hours later, not a scratch on him.

 

~ 

 

It all comes to head a few months before graduation, a few months after their four-year anniversary. Keith still worries; he always worries nowadays. There are so many unpredictable things that throw wrenches in daily life, but for Keith it’s worth it. He’s determined to make this life with Lance the best one yet and he loves Lance so much that he’s giddy at the thought of spending the rest of his life with him. 

 

They’re sitting across from each other at the table, silently working on separate assignments but together nonetheless. Lance nudges Keith’s foot and Keith looks up, pencil still in hand. 

 

“What’s up?” 

 

“You know that engineering graduate program I was talking about a few months ago?” Lance asks. 

 

Keith lets out a little laugh. “How could I forget, you wouldn’t shut up about it.” 

 

Lance blushes and it amuses Keith that this far in their relationship, Lance still gets embarrassed by Keith teasing him. “Yeah, well. I got in.” 

 

Things are silent for half a moment, Lance waiting for Keith’s reaction and Keith taking a moment to process Lance’s words. “Oh my god,” Keith exclaims and he reaches across the table to kiss Lance. 

 

“I know. I got the email last week,” Lance is smiling and Keith is so glad for him. So glad for the both of them because Keith’s law school will be just a town over and Keith takes it as a sign that this life is going to be good. The universe is being kind to them. 

 

“Idiot, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Keith inquiries. 

 

“Mmm,” Lance says. “That’s the thing. They offered me a spot in their Californian branch and I think I’m going to say yes.” 

 

Keith waits for Lance to follow up with  _ haha! Just kidding!  _ Lance has always been a jokester and Keith wouldn’t put it past him to joke about something like this. But Lance stays quiet and Keith realizes that he’s being completely serious. “Lance, that’s on the other side of country.” 

 

“I know,” he says, voice strong but a little sad as well. “I’ve put a lot of thought into it, though. I’m not going to get another chance like this. I need to take it.” 

 

“That’s four years apart from each other, Lance.” Keith’s stomach is starting to twist and turn. If his memories are anything to go by, distance is terrible for their relationship. Lance is a little clingy, craves warmth and touch and lazy morning kisses; Keith is a little jealous, doesn’t like when someone else gets too close to Lance because Lance is flirty by nature. “Are you sure about that?” 

 

Lance nods and his eyes are hopeful and clear. “I love you, Keith. We’ll see each other every few months and I’ll call you every night. We’ll make it work, I promise.” 

 

Keith can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes. It’s the beginning of the end. “Don’t go,” he says and he continues to say that for the three months, trying to convince Lance to stay at every opportunity that’s presented. He’s trying to make their relationship work, trying to keep them together but as the days pass, Keith knows that all of his efforts are in vain. 

 

“We need to talk,” Lance says, a week before he leaves for California. Almost all of his stuff has already been packed away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about that ending T-T


	3. All (Good) Things Must Come to an End

iv

 

The only person that Keith has ever been in a relationship with is Lance, but this Lance isn’t the same as he remembers. (Memories are fickle things and Keith is sure that he’s not the same person he that he is in memories either.) Plus, there’s never been the aspect of space put in either.

 

Nonetheless, they make it work.

 

They don’t tell the team about them because for now they want to figure out things by themselves. It’s sitting next to each other during dinner, training together, watching out for each other in the middle of a fight. It is, Keith realizes, all the things that they were doing before. But these actions mean more because there’s intention and affection behind them. No one, as far as Keith can see, has suspected a thing.

 

The first time they kiss is against Lance’s door to his room, the lights dim because it’s late again. Keith can hear nothing but the low buzz of the castle at work mingled with the sound of their breathing. They’re holding hands, Keith softly rubbing circles onto the back of Lance’s hand and admiring at how well they fit together, how everything feels right. This is fate working in all the right ways.

 

“Go to bed, loser,” Lance says petulantly, pulling his hand away from Keith’s grasp. His face is flushed red from the small point of contact. “Allura said that we’re planning to fight tomorrow anyway. Get the rest you need so you can at least fly correctly. I swear, sometimes I think it’s Red flying you and not the other way around.”

 

“Hey,” Keith scoffs. He reaches out and take Lance’s hand and Lance doesn't put up a fight. The sap. “I will have you know that I’m a perfectly capable pilot, sleep or no sleep.”

 

Lance laughs. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Keith. Whatever helps.”

 

Keith ducks his head and chuckles. He looks up to see Lance smiling at him and he can’t help himself when he leans forward to kiss him. Lance is a great person, bursting with personality and charisma and when it’s directed solely at Keith, Keith gets a little overwhelmed. This is Lance, after all. The Lance that he seems to keep chasing life after life to find. Keith doesn’t think they’re soulmates, but they’re something close to that and Keith is blown away that he gets to be here with Lance, holding his hand and kissing him.

 

The kiss is short but that’s all Keith wants. They’re both trying out this relationship as best as they can, seeing what they’re comfortable with and not. But when Keith breaks away from the kiss, Lance stares at him wide-eyed, and then fists his fingers into the fabric of Keith’s shirt and pulls him closer for another one. And another. And another.

 

“I love you,” Keith says, who knows how much later. He’s resting his head onto Lance’s shoulder, breathing him in. “I really do.”

 

Keith can feel Lance’s small laugh. “I love you, too.”

 

~

 

The castle is empty and it’s scaring Keith. Hunk and Pidge are outside the ship in their lions, inspecting for and fixing the damage that their last fight with the Galra had inflicted. The fights are getting worse and more frequent and Allura had gathered them around the other night, telling them that the war was nearing its close and that they all needed to be prepared. The worst was yet to come.

 

That’s why Allura, Shiro, and Coran are not at the castle either. They’re securing supplies and more importantly, allies. Without everyone in the castle, it feels overbearing. Keith doesn’t even see Allura’s mice running around like they usually do.

 

“I’m not the only one that thinks this is weird, right?” Lance asks, spinning in his chair in the control room of the castle. Keith is sitting in his own chair, slumped down slightly. A while ago, Hunk found out that they could use the holographic imaging that Allura uses during their fights as a projector. The only downside is that the only thing they had to project were old Altean movies that didn’t make any sense to them. However, they worked well as white noise. Currently, what Keith thinks is a romance movie is playing, but it could be horror for all he knows. No one tells you that when you go out to save the universe to bring a few DVDs from home.

 

“I feel small,” Keith says, half in reply to Lance’s question and half as an observation to himself. He’s been thinking a lot about what the end of the war means to him. It means going back to Earth, of course, but Keith has nothing left for him back on Earth. The paladins, Allura, and Coran are all that he has. When Keith thinks about it, he doesn’t want to go back to Earth because he doesn’t have a reason to.

 

“Well, I mean you are kind of short,” Lance remarks, a smile in his voice.

 

“Fuck you,” Keith says, tone flat. He doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but Keith’s mind has not only been thinking about the end of the war; he’s also thinking about telling Lance. He wants to tell Lance because Lance deserves to know and hiding the fact that Keith and Lance have lived a multiple of lives together feels like a secret that shouldn’t be kept. The thing is, he’s not sure how to tell Lance without Lance thinking that he’s crazy. It sounds crazy to Keith himself and some days Keith believes that he is making it all up. But he isn’t, and he knows that. But how to get Lance to take him seriously?

 

“Are you okay?” Lance asks. “You’ve seemed kind of on edge lately. I think everyone’s starting to notice, too. Pidge asked me the other day if you were okay. I told her that you were mad because we made you cut your hair.” Lance talks even and controlled and Keith appreciates the level-headedness. “She took the answer, too. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

 

Keith runs a hand through his hair. In Pidge’s defense, he was upset when they said that he needed a haircut, but in the end Hunk trimmed the edges and nothing more. He wishes it was as simple as the haircut. “Just a lot of things going on right now, you know?”

 

Lance sighs and it’s heavier than it should be. Now that he thinks about it, Lance has been acting strangely as well. He’s been clingier than usual, more insistant with their kisses, and more hesitant with their goodbyes. The other night, Lance had made Keith sleep in his bed with him and as much as Keith loved falling asleep to the sound of Lance’s breaths, it was tricky because the team still doesn’t know. They’re not trying to hide anymore, per say, but they’re not exactly being forward with their relationship either.

 

“A lot of things going on right now. I know.” Lance replies. He suddenly stops spinning in his chair, swiveling to face Keith directly, and then raises his eyebrow. This is Lance with an idea. “I’ll tell you if you tell me?”

 

“Sure,” Keith says before his brain has adequate time to think about it. Did he agree to tell Lance about everything? “I– uh,” Keith stumbles, not sure if he wants to actually explain it let alone if he knows where to start. He takes in a breath and looks up at Lance. Bad idea. Lance is leaning slightly forward in his chair, but it’s his eyes that truly get Keith. Lance is looking at Keith like he’s the most important thing in this entire universe. Keith cannot not tell him now. He takes in another breath, looks down to his lap, and starts talking.

 

As soon as Keith starts talking, he can’t stop. He tells Lance everything that he knows. Tells him how he’s always known, how he thought they were dreams, how he avoided Lance at all costs, how he came to know this Lance and love this Lance, how he’s scared because sometimes they don’t end up together, how he’s trying his hardest to make sure that they stay together.

 

When Keith finishes up, his throat is dry and his mouth is sore. He hadn’t realize that there was that much to say, but now that it’s all out in the open, the only thing that’s left is Lance’s response.

 

“I’m–,” Lance starts then he shakes his head and starts again: “You’re not lying are you?”

 

Keith shakes his head. Telling Lance has taken a huge weight off Keith’s shoulders that he had been so accustomed to carrying that he forgot it was there. It’s easier to breathe. “No, I’m not.”

 

Lance leans back and sinks into his chair, soaking in the information. “I don’t know what else to say but wow. I just– this is kind of crazy, you know? The craziest thing is that I believe you. Sometimes we fit too well together.”

 

Keith nods, familiar with the feeling. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s happening more than before as they’ve become more comfortable and intimate with each other. It feels like time stops around the two of them, only for the two of them. It’s as if they’re in their own bubble, but only for a second or two before the bubble bursts and they’re back in the reality.

 

Lance lets out a sigh that’s half air, half a laugh. “This makes what I want to say so small in comparison.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Can we tell the others about us?” he asks. “I mean, we don’t have to mention the whole  _this-is-not-the-first-life-that-we’ve-known-each-other_  thing, but I don’t want them to not know anymore. It’s tiring and I don’t want it to be.”

 

“Sure,” Keith says. He’s never had a problem with the others knowing, and he agrees that having the others know would make life easier. He thinks that Allura and her mice know already. The mice see too much sometimes.

 

“This is a hell of a day,” Lance says. “Hell. Of. A. Day.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Keith says, nearly jumping up from his chair in surprise when the screen alerts them of an incoming call from the Green Lion. Lance leans over to accept the call and Pidge’s face is broadcasted for them to see.

 

“Hey guys!” she exclaims, waving at them. “Hunk and I are about done. Do you think you could turn on the particle shield for us? Just for a second, want to make sure that we actually did what we wanted to do.”

 

“Sure,” Keith says and Lance flashes her a thumbs up.

 

“Thanks!” she says and then ends the call. Keith gets up to go to Allura’s station and presses what he thinks is the button for the particle shield. In a matter of a seconds, a blue film envelopes the castle and the Green Lion whizzes in front of them like a man on a mission. Knowing Pidge and Hunk, they are on a mission.

 

“When we get back to Earth,” Lance says out of the blue. But from the way that Lance is talking, deliberate and careful, Keith knows that this is something that has been weighing on his mind recently. It makes sense because there was no way that Lance was just acting differently just because he wanted to tell their friends. He and Lance both trust the others too much to be worried.

 

“When we get back to Earth,” Lance repeats. “You should come with me to visit my family. My mom and sisters will love you, I know it.”

 

Keith stalls. “I– what?”

 

“Come visit me and my family?” Lance asks, voice small. “I mean, if you want to. I’m not going to force you to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

 

“No, it’s just–” Keith says, at a lost for words. Every time that he’s thought about Earth, it hasn’t been with any intention to go back. But here’s Lance, telling him that he has a place to go. Keith loves Lance, of course he’ll go. “Do you really think your mom will really like me?”

 

Lance smiles widely. “Yeah,” he says, not able to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. “I mean, she’ll probably take one look at you, call you too skinny for your own good, and try to overfeed you, but yeah. She’ll love you.”

 

“Your sisters too?”

 

“Trust me, they’ll tease me more than anything else,” Lance says, laughing slightly. “So, you’ll come meet them?”

 

Keith hesitates, but he knows his answer. "Sure." 

 

“They’re going to love you. They’ll tease the hell out of you, but that’s just how they show their love. I promise.”

 

A promise, that sounds good. 

 

* * *

 

 

D

 

When he was in high school, Keith would wake up some mornings with a feeling of dread in his stomach. It would be hard to go through the day, hard to make himself feel things, hard to hold back the tears because everything seemed dreary and sad, hard to make himself be not upset. Pidge helped a lot; she noticed when he was off and would try her best to make things easier for him. Sometimes it would be offering to study together after school, sometimes it would be talking to him even though his replies were one-word responses, sometimes it was leaving Keith alone and texting him the day’s homework.

 

And over the years, Keith got better. His better days would outnumber his off days and even his off days weren’t as bad as they used to be. He was getting better, he is better.

 

So that’s why when he wakes up one morning with a heavy pressure in his chest and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to cry, he panics.

 

 _What the fuck is this_ , he thinks. He is supposed to be better, Keith reasons, counting his breaths and trying to focus on his surroundings. The pillows that he is on are soft and smell faintly of Lance’s cologne. The sheets are pushed down to the edge of the bed and they’re soft as well. His bed is warm and the comforter is fluffy.

 

In. Out. In. Out.

 

After what feels like an entirety, but really could only have been less than two minutes, the panic subsides and Keith exhales, exhausted. He had forgotten how tiring panic attacks could be. Even when they’re not full-blown attacks, they still take a toll on his body. The day hasn’t even started yet and all Keith wants to do is curl back into bed and sleep.

 

So he does exactly just that.

 

He wakes up an odd amount of hours later, his bones feeling like lead and every part of his body aching. His mind reels with the dream he had, but all he’s able to remember are wisps of emotions, nothing solid. He feels not lost but unfound. He’s searching for something, but he doesn’t know what it is. Or who it is. He keeps his eyes closed, as if that will somehow make the dream more vivid in his memory. Maybe if he falls back asleep he’ll fall into the same dream.

 

Before he can fall asleep, Keith’s phone rings on the beside table. He’s about to roll over and fall asleep anyway when the phone keeps ringing. Curious, he grabs his phone. Everyone knows that Keith hates phone calls, so who could be calling him?

 

“Hello?” Keith says, his voice groggy and sounding off to even his own ears. He doesn’t even want to imagine what it sounds like through the distortion of the phone call.

 

“Keith? Where are you?” Lance’s voices rings out. He sounds a little angry, but more worried than anything else. Shit, Keith thinks as an uneasy feeling overcomes him. He shivers, even though underneath his covers is very warm, as he thinks about how he had plans with Lance today.

 

“I’m not feeling well,” he says, not lying. Even though he’s shivering, he’s starting to break out in a cold sweat. The hand that is holding his phone to his face is clammy and the uneasy feeling is making Keith’s stomach do flips on itself. He feels sick. “I just woke up.”

 

“Are you sick?” Lance asks. Keith can hear Lance moving around through the phone. He’s probably gathering up his stuff and planning to make his way to Keith’s side as soon as he can. It’s a sweet gesture, but for some reason all that Keith wants to do is to not be around Lance. Maybe it has to do with how he’s been feeling since the first time he woke up, or maybe it has to do with the weird dream, but Keith doesn’t want to be around Lance. Keith knows that being around Lance will make whatever mixture of emotions and physical ailments that he is feeling now even worse. He already feels close to throwing up now.

 

“I think so,” Keith replies, voice weak as he barely opens his mouth to respond. He’s so nauseous that it feels like he’s on a ship, the world titling to and fro and threatening to toss him overboard.

 

“Are you in your apartment? I can be over there in ten minutes.”

 

Keith freezes. Lance is so considerate and thoughtful, but this is exactly what Keith did not want. “No, no,” he says. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay. I don’t want to get you sick.”

 

“Let me at least bring you some medicine.”

 

“No. I have some medicine here. It’s not that bad, I need to take something and go back to sleep. I’m sorry for bailing out on our plans.”

 

Lance lets out a soft laugh and that noise usually makes Keith feel better, but his stomach twists even tighter together. “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry you’re feeling sick. Sleep well, okay? Make some tea. I’ll see you tomorrow if you’re feeling better.” There’s a beat, two, then: “I love you.”

 

The _I Love You_ s are nothing new, but Keith can’t bring himself to say it back. “You too,” he says instead. Lance ends the call and Keith lets his phone drop to his bed. He has no idea what is making him feel so wrong. It feels like he’s empty but overwhelmed at the same time. He’s missing something, looking for something, but he doesn’t know what or who that something is. He closes his eyes again. He knows the dream is contributing to how upset he is feeling right now, but he can’t remember anything about it.

 

Keith falls back asleep after an hour of tossing and turning, thinking that sometimes, dreams are better unremembered.

 

~

 

Keith has been acting strangely, strange enough for Pidge to take notice. She nudges his shoulder with her own, the two of them sitting underneath the shade of a tree. They have their notes in front of them, but Keith is too distracted to do anything other than absentmindedly doodle on the back of his notebook.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Did you and Lance have a fight?” Pidge asks. Keith snaps his head up, unsure if he’s heard her right. “Or something,” she adds.

 

Keith narrows his eyes. “No? Not that I can recall.” They haven’t had any arguments recently, but then again they haven’t been talking much lately. Maybe that’s what Pidge is trying to get at.

 

“Oh,” she responds, nodding her head. “That’s good then.” She twirls her pencil in her fingers and takes in a breath. “Then why have you been walking on eggshells?”

 

“I’m not walking on eggshells.”

 

“Okay. Then why are you walking on hot rocks?”

 

“I’m not walking on hot rocks either.”

 

Pidge meets Keith’s eyes. “Bullshit,” she says, serious. “Something is wrong and you’re not telling me. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. But I know something isn’t right and I’m worried.”

 

Keith opens his mouth, wanting to tell Pidge everything that’s been going on, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what to say because he’s still not sure of what’s happening. Ever since that day where he was sick, nothing has been feeling right. He feels wronged, like he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time, like he’s missing something, like everyone is taking a step with their right foot and he’s taking one with his left. The world keeps turning, and it’s leaving Keith behind. There’s something in his head that is telling him that he should know more, but more of what?

 

And the worst part of it all is that the feelings get even worse when he’s around Lance. He doesn’t know why, but he feels even more lost when he’s with Lance. Even when he fell asleep and woke up with Lance next to him, he felt like his dreams were even more daunting and extreme, but he still remembered none of it. Consequently, he’s been avoiding Lance. It’s been a month and Keith doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s missing something, but he doesn’t know what it is or how to get it back.

 

“You ever feel lost?” Keith asks, voice soft and strained. For some reason, he feels like he’s close to crying. “Like you know where you are and what’s around you, but at the same time you don’t know anything at all? It’s like you know you should be here, but you also know that you shouldn’t be here at the exact same time.”

 

Pidge is quiet, her mouth in a tight line. “I’m sorry you’re feeling this way,” she says, putting a hand on his back and rubbing in small, soothing circles. “That sounds like it blows.”

 

Keith sighs, leaning back into his best friend’s touch. “It fucking does,” he agrees.

 

~

 

Keith had called off plans, again, but it’s not a shock when Lance shows up anyways.

 

“Are you going to let me in?” Lance asks, his impatience making his foot tap a menacing beat on the pavement outside of Keith’s apartment. Keith is too slow to reply so Lance lets himself in, taking off his coat and shoes and sitting on the couch.  

 

Keith closes the door, a little bewildered that Lance is even here, but not surprised. The last time the two had seen each other was a week ago, but Keith had started to feel so bad that he had to go home early. Sometimes, Keith will start to think that whatever was going on with him is starting to go away, only to be sorely reminded that it’s not.

 

“Do you want something to drink?” Keith asks, unsure how to approach this situation. Keith can only see it going one way, and that way breaks Keith’s heart. Keith loves Lance, this is a fact, but he also knows that Lance can do a lot better than someone who has been avoiding him for the past month.

 

“Water would be fine,” Lance replies and Keith dashes into the kitchen to get Lance what he requested. He puts the water in a mug because for some reason that’s what Lance prefers and gets a glass for himself as well. He walks back into the room and hands the mug to Lance before sitting down, putting his own glass on the coffee table.

 

Lance doesn’t take a sip of his water, just looks into the cup as if it all the answers in the world. Keith wouldn’t doubt that it has more answers that he does at the moment. How does he even start this conversation? It’s not me, it’s you? I feel lost every time around you? I feel like I’m a missing a critical piece of my own self?

 

Lance sighs, and still looking into his cup of water, he starts talking: “Are you going to break up with me?”

 

Keith opens his mouth, gaping, and then closes it again. “What?”

 

Lance sighs again, this time more out of relief rather than getting his nerves up. “I take that as a no?”

 

Keith stays silent. He doesn’t trust himself to not say something stupid like _No, idiot, of course I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t know what to do when I’m around you._ He says it out loud anyways.

 

“You don’t know what to do with yourself?” Lance asks, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

 

“I–,” Keith starts, not knowing where he’s going. “I don’t know. It’s like– something’s missing. There’s something I’m missing and I don’t know what it is and it’s driving me crazy.”

 

“Crazy enough to ignore me for a month?” Lance asks, pointed.

 

Keith hangs his head. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t do that again,” Lance continues. “I’m not going to let you walk over me because you think I let you. This is a two-person relationship. Talk to me; I’m here for you.” He reaches over and touches Keith’s knee with the tips of his fingers. It’s amazing how a little physical contact will do wonders to Keith’s nerves. Being around Lance isn’t as bad as Keith remembered it. There’s still the emptiness, the want to know what should be known, but it’s duller, more manageable.

 

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Keith says.

 

Lance laughs, a soft thing that puts Keith even more at ease. “It’s alright. I’m a mess too. We’ll get through whatever you’re going through together, okay?”

 

Keith intertwines his fingers with Lance’s and squeezes. Lance squeezes back. “I don’t deserve you.”

 

“Yeah, I know. But you’re stuck with me so deal with it, mullet boy.”

 

Keith takes a deep breath. He feels lighter in a good, semi-euphoric way. “You make it sound like being stuck with you is a bad thing.”

 

Lance grins, all white teeth and sarcastic humor. It’s full of adoration. “It’s the best.”

 

They have a long way to go, but Keith has to agree.

 

* * *

 

 

5

 

Keith buries himself in his work, frustrated at himself for not trying harder, frustrated at the universe for making him remember all the lives he’s had, frustrated at Lance for no good reason. He knows he was being micromanaging and stifling, but he thought that because this is far from his first time being with Lance, he’d know how to figure it out all.

 

Goddammit, he tried so hard to keep them together but all his efforts did was drive a wall between them and two years later, it still stings. It stings more now because Lance doesn’t love him anymore and Keith knows how it feels for Lance to love him for his entire life. That life is just not this life.

 

Keith is still friends with Lance on social media, never finding it in his heart to completely take Lance out of his life, so he sees when Lance finds someone else. Her name’s Katie, hair in a short bob around her face and circular glasses always perched, ready to fall off, on the tip of her nose. Keith can tell by the way Lance is smiling that he’s happy, can tell by the way he looks at her that he’s in love.

 

He supposes that if he was a better person, he would be happy that Lance is happy. He’s not. If he was a better person, they’d be still together. They’re not.

 

The memories stopped coming years ago, and Keith knows that this life is going to become nothing but another painful memory for another naive Keith to ponder about.

 

Maybe in his next life, he’ll figure out a way to make them stay together. Maybe in his next life, because in this life Keith has used up all his chances. Maybe in his next life. Next life. Maybe.

 

* * *

 

v

  


It happens more in a haze than anything else. Both Allura and Shiro had warned them that this fight, this last battle, was going to be like nothing they had ever seen before. Scale wise, they were right. Not only were the paladins fighting, but so were all their allies that they had gathered along the way. Even Galra that they had made treaties with were by their sides, firing and dodging and fighting the same way that Keith and the others were.

 

Brutality wise, they were also right. Keith has lost count of how many Galra soldiers that he’s taken down, but even worse is that he’s lost count of how many of his own allies that he has seen fall. The finality of the situation is just starting to sink in. This is not only the end of the war, but it could also be the end.

 

Keith knows that his arm is gashed badly because he’s losing the ability to feel his fingers. A tingling sensation runs through his entire right arm and it’s only because of adrenaline that he’s able to swing his sword through the Galra in front of him and look for a place to hide.

 

“Where are you, Keith?” Lance says through the comms. Keith and Pidge had been tasked with landing on Zarkon’s ship and taking down their defense system. It was easier said than done, but they had managed to get through with it. The harder part came afterwards. The harder part came because Zarkon already knew that they would be here fighting and let them lower the systems. Pidge and Keith had been ambushed the second they let their guard down.

 

“Not sure,” Keith says, wincing as he takes a quick peek down the hallway and finds that it’s empty. He hurries through it, looking for something that he could wrap his arm with. He has to at least try to stop the bleeding. “Somewhere in the ship, I think northeast corner? The control center was in the southeast, so yeah– northeast corner.”

 

Keith breathes heavily into the receiver, his head light. The more he moves, the harder it’s getting to breathe.

 

“Keith,” Allura says, voice ringing through Keith’s head. “Are you injured?”

 

“A bit,” Keith says, winded. He spots a fallen Galra and walks over to them. “I need to find something to stop the bleeding with and I’ll be fine.” He rifles through their stuff and finds exactly what he needs. He unravels the bandage and starts to wrap it around his upper arm. The gash is bigger than he anticipated and soon enough Keith’s gloves are stained through with blood.

 

“Keith, try to get back to your Lion if you can. Your vitals aren’t looking too good,” Allura says, voice worried.

 

“Keith, get back to your Lion,” Shiro orders after he doesn’t respond.

 

“‘M fine,” Keith insists. Finished with the wrapping, he sits down next to the dead Galra and rests against the wall. “When I get the bleeding to stop, I’ll be fine. Give me a second.”

 

“Keith, it’s not worth your life to be stubborn,” Pidge interjects, more upset than Keith has ever heard her. He feels a wave of guilt hit him, but he knows that if he can just stick it out, he’ll be fine. “If Allura and Shiro both are telling you to get back to your Lion, then get back to your Lion.”

 

“Pidge, I’m fine. There’s no need to worry. Keep yourself safe and I’ll keep myself safe.”

 

“That’s a load of shit and you know it,” Lance huffs. “I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

 

“I don’t think yelling at Keith is going to make anything better,” Hunk adds, always the voice of reason.

 

“Thank you, Hunk,” Keith says and then turns off his comms. Dammit, he knows that he’s stubborn but he also knows his own limits. He’s not going into this recklessly. He has too much on the line to lose because of his pride. (Losing Lance, losing himself, losing his friends, losing the life that he's built here.) He shakily stands up and checks the bandage on his arm. It seems to be doing the trick, but it’s a mediocre fix at best. He’s going to have to go back to Red sooner than he would like to in order to make sure that he can make it out of there alive.

 

His fingers tighten around his bayard when he hears noises coming from his left. He knows that he had been lucky to find the bandages, luckier still to be able to be in left unfounded while he patched himself up, and it seems that his luck has finally run out. Bracing himself, Keith runs to the corner of the hallway to make sure that he’s the one taking the Galra by surprise and not the other way around.

 

The sword is heavy in his hands as he swings it, but he swings it with all his might. There’s not one, not two, but three Galra turning the corner and he gets the first one on his first strike. The other two, noticing his presence, come onto him at full force. Keith is slower than he normally is, and it hurts him. He gets a punch to the stomach, keeling over for a solid second as he regains his breath. One of them has a knife that swings too close to Keith’s face for comfort

 

Keith kneels and swipes his feet in front of him, catching one of the Galra soldiers and knocking them into the ground. He stands up and kicks them in the head and then kicks them once more to completely knock him out. If Keith doesn’t have to kill, he won’t, but he knows that he’ll have to kill the last one to get out of the situation. If it’s his life versus the life of a unknown Galra soldier, there is no a competition.

 

Keith blinks as he turns, black spots dusting his vision. _Shit_ , he thinks. He wills himself to see and think clearly and then wills himself harder because he can’t be seeing what he’s seeing, right?

 

“Imagine how pleased Zarkon will be with not just one, but two paladins,” the last soldier greedily gasps. He has a bullet wound on his shoulder and in between his arms is Lance. Keith hadn’t even heard Lance approach, but he here is, helmet and bayard-less. Both items are laying on the floor near him, utterly useless. The soldier has a knife pressed up against Lance’s neck and Lance is terrified, still as a statue. He widens his eyes when he takes in Keith’s ragged state but doesn’t say anything, the knife too close to his throat to even let him swallow properly. There’s a thin trail of red already coming from his neck.

 

“Imagine how distraught Zarkon will be when his reign is finally over,” Keith snarks, his voice more stable than his breathing. God, the bandage isn’t really working. He swallows, trying to keep the pain at bay. “You’ve already lost, so give up.”

 

“Have I?” the soldier remarks. “You’re in the losing position here. You’re going to come with me or I’ll cut your friend right here. Your choice.” He hits Lance in the stomach, causing Lance to cough and cut himself more on the knife. The stream of blood becomes steadier and red streaks the collar of his suit.

 

“Fuck you,” Keith says, emotions rising. He rushes the soldier without another word. His first swing gets him right in the shoulder, causing the solider to be jolted back by the force. He lets go of Lance in his surprise and Keith takes that moment to hit the soldier again and again and again. How dare someone threaten Lance. How dare someone hurt Lance. Keith can see nothing but rage and it isn’t until he’s sure that the soldier is dead that he stops. He kneels over, hands on his knees and tries to breathe but his breaths are nothing but wisps of air. His head is hurting him and every time he blinks, his eyes stay closed for longer.

 

 _Lance_ , he thinks.

 

Lance is laying on the floor, head tilted at an angle. Blood surrounds him like a twisted form of a halo. His breathing is shallow and it’s marred by gurgled intakes of air. His throat is cut open. Keith thought that he was able to get Lance away from the soldier before he had a chance to act out his words, but he thought wrong.

 

“No, no, no, no,” Keith whispers, more of a stream of pained noises than actual words. He was supposed to have saved Lance and himself. He was supposed to. “Lance,” he says, getting to Lance’s side as quickly as he can. He puts Lance’s head in his lap, smearing the blood even more. He struggles with his hands, unsure of where to place him. How does he even stop this type of bleeding? There's so much blood: Keith can't tell what blood is his own and what is Lance's. “Lance,” he says again, as if saying his name is somehow going to make Lance okay again. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Hey,” Lance slowly says. His eyelashes flutter as he tries to keep his eyes open. “Let’s… find each other in our next lives, okay?”

 

“Don’t say that. You’re going to make it out alive.” It’s the biggest like that Keith has ever told, but he can’t bring himself to think any different. Keith is getting dizzier the more he talks but it’s okay. Lance is here and he’s going to be okay soon.

 

“Next life,” Lance says again. “I’ll look for you.” He takes in a big breath, lets it out, and doesn’t take in another.

 

“Lance,” Keith sobs, lowering his head so their foreheads can touch each other’s. He is losing the feeling in not only his arm but his entire body. He feels warm and cold at the same time. The bandage on his arm is nothing but tatters, spilling out blood profusely. If that was his only injury than maybe Keith could make it through, but it’s not. He has cuts all up and down his legs and a gash on his chest that just misses his heart. His armor can only do so much.

 

 _I’m sorry_ , he thinks but he doesn’t know to whom. Maybe it’s to Lance for not being fast enough to save him. Maybe it’s to Pidge who will find their bodies when they’re still warm, crying and screaming over the comms. She’ll shake Keith’s shoulders, begging for them to wake up and in her distress she won’t notice the Galra soldier behind her that hits her over the head. She’ll make it out alive, but Keith is still sorry. Maybe it’s to himself for allowing himself to think that he had gotten the better of fate this time, that this time he would have a happy ending.

 

Maybe in their next life. Next life. Maybe.

 

Keith takes in a big breath, lets it out, and doesn’t take in another.

 

* * *

 

E

 

Keith is on the hunt for the cat that decide to make his nice, new shoes her litter box. He knows exactly where she is too, but he can’t reach her. “Blue,” Keith sing-songs, his voice light but with a menacing undertone. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

 

Blue stares at Keith from atop the fridge, eyes wide and innocent. She yawns at him and then lays down, her head on top of her paws. She’s mocking him and Keith knows it. Dammit, Keith should have known better than to get her as a graduation present for Lance. She’s been with them for two years and she still pulls stunts like this.

 

“You little shit,” Keith huffs. He could grab her from the fridge and put her in a crate, but he can’t reach the top of the fridge without a chair and even with a chair, he knows that Blue will move before he is able to catch her. There’s no winning here.

 

There’s also no winning because if Keith does happen to catch her, Lance will be on her side. He always babies her, letting her sleep on their bed even though her favorite spot is in the middle of them, hindering any cuddling from ever happening. Lance also feeds her bites of his food too, trying to be sneaky about it but failing miserably. Keith loves her too, but not in moments like this.

 

“C’mon, you know exactly what you did,” Keith whines, reaching for the cat. The cat blinks owlishly at him, but doesn’t budge. “What am I supposed to do now? They were nice shoes. Really nice shoes.”

 

Lance finds the two of them still in the kitchen twenty minutes later. Keith has pulled a chair up to the refrigerator, making grabby hands at the cornered cat. Blue is hissing at him, putting her paw out to stop Keith but never making contact. Keith’s hands don’t quite reach Blue even though he’s leaning all the way over.

 

“Damn cat,” Keith mutters.

 

Lance laughs, putting the bags of groceries that are in his hands on the countertop. “What did she do to you now? I wasn’t even gone for an hour.”

 

Keith turns, his eye narrowed into slits. “Your cat is a menace,” he says venomously.

 

Lance crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “Why is she always my cat when something bad happens?”

 

“She’s my cat when I have to give her a bath,” Keith counters.

 

“True, true,” Lance concedes.

 

“She peed in my shoes.” Keith sounds heartbroken. He steps off of the chair as Blue jumps off the fridge and runs into the other room. Keith watches her scamper off and rolls his eyes at her. “Typical.”

 

“Your new shoes?” Lance asks and Keith walks forward and wraps himself around Lance. He buries his head into the crook of Lance’s shoulders, breathing in deeply.

 

Keith nods. “My new shoes.”

 

Lance hugs Keith back, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair. “I’m sorry about your shoes.”

 

Keith sighs. Being besides Lance has a calming effect on Keith, making his head clearer and making him realize how his shoes are just shoes and he can always throw them in the wash if need be. “It’s alright. They’re just shoes. I’m overreacting a bit. But she can’t sleep on our bed for a week.”

 

“A week? Doesn’t that seem a bit too harsh?”

 

“Lance,” Keith says, exasperated but fond in the same breath. “They were new shoes.”

 

Lance sighs. “Fine, a week.” He holds Keith for a second more, and then squeezes him and lets him go. “Let’s clean your shoes, put away this food, and then make something for lunch. Sound good?”

 

Keith steps back. Other than the grocery shopping that Lance has already completed (The two of them were supposed to go together but when Lance had rolled out of bed, Keith had just waved a hand at him and fell back asleep.), there’s nothing on the agenda. It’s a perfect weekend. Keith has a Netflix queue waiting for days exactly like this. “Sounds great.”

 

Keith puts his shoes in the laundry, and they put the groceries away together, making small talk and bumping each other playfully as they pass by. It’s mundane and homely and Keith can feel the love in the air, even when Blue winds her way through Keith’s legs and makes him drop the package of lettuce onto the floor. It’s moments like this, moments such as Lance asking Keith to pass him the salt, moments such as them eating their food on the couch because they’re too lazy to sit at the dining table, moments such as Lance rubbing his cold feet onto Keith’s legs and Keith grumbly accepting the action, that make Keith realize that he’s living the best life that he can be living.

 

Right here, with Lance by his side (and their troublemaking cat), Keith feels complete. There’s nothing missing. Keith must have done great things in his past life to be able to live like this now.

 

It’s a wild thought, but Keith would go through lives of pain and heartbreak just for this happy ending with Lance.

 

There are no maybes in his life. Because this life? This life is it for Keith.

 

And it’s a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh, thank you so much for sticking around to the end. i hope you all enjoyed it!!! please talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_onceandforall) or [tumblr](romanuva.tumblr.com)!! as always, huge shoutout to cande for sticking through this with me and for erin for the beta. and thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts !!!! until next time ~~


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